The Prince's Trap

by Griffith, P. D.

  Shutting his locker and tossing his clothes in the laundry bin, Landon followed Jeremiah, Joshua and Cortland as they made their way out of the Olympic Tower and to the Recreation Center for a friendly game of telekinetic billiards. Cortland put his hand on Landon’s shoulder as they walked.

  “What’s with you today?” Cortland asked, sounding genuinely concerned. “You seem lost up there.” He tapped Landon on the side of his head just above his ear. “You’ve got to start letting go and have some fun.”

  Landon froze in his tracks. He was almost knocked back from the spark of an epiphany as it grew and formed in his mind. “What did you say?” he asked.

  “You’ve got to let go and—”

  “No, before that,” Landon interrupted. The wheels in his head were spinning. Something Cortland had said ignited an idea that was quickly taking shape, but he needed to hear it again to be sure he was thinking straight.

  Cortland spoke in a perplexed, cautious manner. “That you seem lost up there?” Landon turned to him, excitement and gratitude bubbling up from his belly, making him look crazed. Cortland stepped back, nervous.

  “I’m gonna have to take a rain check,” Landon said, his feet already starting to move under him. He patted Cortland affectionately on the chest before sprinting down the hallway. After he breezed by the twins, who were staring at him in bewilderment, Landon turned, midstride, and shouted, “You’re a genius!” back at Cortland.

  “What?” Cortland said under his breath as Landon turned the corner and disappeared from view.

  It was so simple and so clear. Everything pointed to it; now he realized what he needed to do. How hadn’t he thought of it sooner?

  He ran from the locker room, through the Palaestra, and up the stairwell without pause. As he opened the metal door leading to the rest of the Gymnasium, Landon saw the person he needed walking casually down the hall. He sprinted after her, hoping to catch her before she got too far away.

  “Parker!” he called, his voice echoing down the massive hallway. “Parker!”

  She stopped beside one of the large stone pillars that extended six stories into the air. The firelight of the Gymnasium cast a soft glow on her features and ignited her auburn hair in vibrant reds and oranges.

  “What is it?” she asked, indifferent.

  “I need your help.” Landon said between pants as he caught his breath.

  “With what?” she asked, not even attempting to exchange pleasantries. Parker wasn’t the best when it came to social interactions. She was amazing at her job: agile and stealthy with another psychokinetic skill that was precisely what Landon needed—she was a hacker. But she just wasn’t a people person.

  Landon looked her dead in the eyes. With a few drops of sweat trailing down the side of his face, he looked more crazed than ever, but serious at the same time. He spoke to her in a commanding voice.

  “You’re going to wake up Celia.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  RISE AND SHINE

  Parker stood over Celia’s unconscious body, looking at her with something close to affection. Parker liked Celia; she was one of the few people she connected with, and they had become friends—well, as close as someone could be to Alexandra Parker, who wasn’t really the “friend” type.

  The second Landon had told Parker he needed her help to wake Celia, she agreed. Landon wondered if she would have acted so decisively with any other person. But that didn’t matter now. Parker was there, and she was the only person he trusted to do what he needed.

  The evidence continued to stack up and make sense to him as he took Parker to the medical wing. Celia was trapped—trapped in her mind.

  Washington had told Landon that he possessed an unnatural ability to close off parts of himself; he must have somehow boxed Celia out in the Tactometry training room when he forced her out of his head. And the dream—or was it a vision?—of Celia trapped in a dark cage: Landon now interpreted it as Celia desperately trying to get through to him. Why wouldn’t their connection go both ways? He’d sat with her so many times, telling her that she needed to let him know what was wrong, and she’d done it. But Landon, either too blind to realize or too preoccupied with his own issues, had failed to notice. She was talking to me! he thought, beating himself up for not realizing it sooner. How could I have been so dense?

  “I need you to hack into her mind,” Landon explained to Parker as he stood on the other side of Celia, clutching her hand in eager anticipation. “I think she’s trapped in there. I need you to break her out.”

  “Trapped?” Parker asked.

  “Yes, trapped,” Landon reiterated. “But are you able to do it without accessing her memories? That wouldn’t be fair to her.” Landon tried to sound as if concern for Celia’s privacy was the only reason he was worried about protecting her memories.

  Parker looked down at Celia, so fragile and vulnerable under the white sheet. So peaceful and serene on the outside, but if she was trapped in her head, she must be struggling with all her might to break free. A glimmer of compassion registered on Parker’s face. “I’ll do it.”

  She gently rested her left hand on Celia’s smooth forehead, her slender, pale fingers tipped in magenta nail polish contrasting with Celia’s olive skin. “You need to hold her down,” she ordered Landon. “I don’t know where she is in there, so she might fight me.”

  “It’s not going to hurt her, is it?” Landon was concerned, vestiges of his agony when interrogated by Washington rising up in his memory.

  “Unconscious people are easier to hack, but the strong ones still fight back.”

  Landon braced himself for the worst. He reached over the bed, grabbing hold of both of Celia’s arms. Without telling Landon, Parker entered Celia’s mind. Landon only knew because the connection caused all the muscles in Celia’s body to tense. He knew she was strong, so obviously she would be a fighter.

  Nervous, Landon looked up at Parker. Her eyes were closed as she stood perfectly still. The way her hand was placed on Celia’s head made her look like a priest blessing an invalid. Landon hoped he was doing the right thing in allowing her to invade Celia’s mind like this. Perhaps he had acted too rashly, asking for her help. She didn’t know anything about Celia’s true identity as Artemis or their covert work in the Gymnasium. If Parker didn’t stay out of her memories, there might be one more person they’d have to convince to keep their secrets.

  Landon’s initial thought when leaving Cortland and the twins behind was that he should do it, but in the short time as he ran through the Olympic Tower, he knew he wasn’t prepared for it. Hacking was a very specialized psychic skill, and Landon was terrible in that realm of training. If it weren’t for his strange connection with Celia, he might not be able to hear a single person’s mental ramblings. He then thought about asking Katie Leigh, but she was a technopath—not a hacker. How similar is a brain to a computer? he had wondered as he ran out of the Olympic Tower. But Landon needed the best possibility for success. That was when Parker came to mind. She was the team’s hacker; this was her specialty. If not her, then there’d be no one Landon could even remotely trust to do what had to be done.

  Suddenly, Celia’s body started to convulse erratically. Her muscles contracted and released as her brain fired impulses through her body. Landon gripped her more tightly, trying his best to hold her still.

  “Is something wrong?” Landon yelled in a panic.

  Parker did not respond, but remained stoically positioned beside Celia’s body, her hand never losing contact with Celia’s forehead.

  “What’s happening?” Landon screamed at her, desperately in need of an explanation. His hands started to sweat, making it difficult to keep hold of Celia’s arms.

  He clutched Celia’s body for dear life, pressing his chest against her torso in hopes it would help restrain her convuls
ions, which became more and more violent with every passing second. Landon was unable to think straight. The harsh, loud sound of the bed’s metal frame clacking and popping as the sheets whipped back and forth, coupled with the springy ting of the mattress, and the constant beeping of the heart monitor, made it impossible. Celia’s legs yanked the sheets out from under the bed, causing them to dance in the air as her feet flailed.

  Terror flooded through Landon’s veins. If he weren’t so scared, he would have run for a doctor to help. Instead, he was panting, his eyes darting back and forth as he searched his brain for a way to make Celia’s convulsions stop. He could barely swallow, and he felt the sweat collecting on his brow. There was a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach, like he was about to throw up. He never expected any of this to happen. Regret surged through him as he prayed for an end.

  Then it stopped. With a final shudder, Celia’s body relaxed, settling into the disheveled bed. The beeping of her heart monitor steadied. Landon looked around with a confused expression, and his face flushed once he realized he was literally lying on top of Celia, his arms spread across her torso and legs. Self-consciously, Landon slid off her and took his position at Celia’s side, his hands gripped behind his back. It was too awkward for him to hold her hand, or even touch her.

  Landon looked to Parker for some assurance. After all of that, it had to have worked. But she remained unmoved. She still stood next to the bed, seemingly unaffected by the whole ordeal that Landon had just endured. “Well?” he pressed her.

  Calm and collected, Parker retracted her hand, removing it from Celia’s forehead and placing it casually at her side. “It’s done,” she said plainly.

  Landon examined Celia, scanning her from head to toe. She looked unchanged apart from a thin layer of sweat that made her arms and face glisten in the florescent light. He then glanced up at Parker, skepticism filling his mind. “If she’s not trapped now, why isn’t she awake?” Landon questioned.

  “She was buried pretty deep.” Parker’s gaze trailed off as she started to think on something else before adding, “Her brain has to reboot.”

  Landon stepped against the bed, resting his hands on the mattress. A hard coil pressed against his palm. He inspected Celia’s face for any sign of movement, any twitch of the eyebrow or flutter of the eye, anything that might signal she was returning to him.

  “So, anything else?” Parker asked, growing impatient.

  Landon wondered how long he’d been staring at Celia. Turning to Parker, he replied, “How long do you think it will take?”

  “Beats me,” Parker answered stolidly. Once she saw Landon turn his gaze back to Celia, Parker shrugged and exited the room, returning to the Gymnasium as if nothing had happened.

  Landon, however, lost himself in monitoring Celia. Time slipped away as he strained to see any physical indication that she was waking. Many times he thought he saw a subtle motion of her lips or a tick of a muscle in her cheek, but she never stirred beyond that.

  Eventually, Landon went to the other side of the bed and took a seat in a white plastic chair. It was firm and uncomfortable, but he watched her from that chair for hours, glancing at the clock more frequently as time progressed.

  As it reached late in the afternoon, Landon buried his head in his hands. Feelings of failure welled up inside as he became convinced they hadn’t unlocked Celia’s consciousness from its prison in her mind. He wondered if he was wrong about the entire thing. How can someone get trapped in her own head? he asked, now certain it had been a completely ridiculous idea to begin with.

  Landon’s stomach started to call to him, gurgling and groaning with longing. The arduous training session in the Palaestra was now hours in the past, and he hadn’t replenished the energy he’d expended. With a resounding slosh in his stomach, he resigned himself to defeat and decided to head up to dinner. He licked his lips. The thought of food made his mouth water. With a sigh, Landon rose from the chair and headed out of the medical wing, thinking he’d have to start from square one with Celia.

  When he reached the doorway, he grabbed hold of the painted metal frame and looked back at her one last time. Nothing had changed. He dropped his head in shame, but when he lifted it back up, he saw something. He saw Celia’s finger twitch. It was slight, but he was sure he saw it. Focusing in on her hand, he waited for it to happen again, wondering if it was just another trick of his eyes. He was afraid that in so desperately wanting to see a sign of her waking, his mind made it happen. But there it was. Again, her index finger twitched, curling in toward her palm.

  Landon rushed over to her bed, frenzied with anticipation. He watched her face with bated breath, and couldn’t believe it when her cheek ticked and her eyes started to flutter.

  Then Celia opened her eyes with a serene expression on her face, letting out a mild groan as if she were waking from a light afternoon nap. Elation burned through Landon; he could feel the heat emanating from his palms. He was speechless. He was so excited it had worked.

  As she continued to wake up, she looked around, seemingly confused.

  “You’re in the medical wing,” Landon explained softly. He couldn’t contain the beaming smile on his face. “You’ve been in a coma for over a month.”

  Celia turned to him, her eyes taking a moment to focus, but when she finally realized who was talking to her, her expression changed. The muscles around her eyes twitched as her nose flared and she clenched her jaw.

  Befuddled, Landon looked down and saw her hand had balled into a fist. The veins running up her arm were clearly visible as they bulged under her skin.

  “You,” she forced out between her teeth, seething with anger.

  Landon felt a strange force press against his body only seconds before he flew across the room and crashed into the wall. A chair clanked against the tile floor, knocked down in Landon’s flight. He squirmed to free himself from her grip but couldn’t budge an inch. He looked at Celia, baffled. Memories of being pinned against the golden entrance to the Gymnasium floated into his mind; it was his first encounter with Artemis before he knew that she and Celia were one and the same, even before he knew there was a girl called Artemis. Her raw power, the focused energy. Her strength was just as potent now.

  Using her hand to support her, Celia laboriously lifted herself to a sitting position, her arms shaking. Her expression was frightening—dripping with rage. With great effort, she pulled the IV out of her arm, ripped the heart monitor and vitals sensors off her body, each detaching with a sound that reminded Landon of tearing paper, and struggled to get out of the bed.

  “What are you doing?” Landon asked, a tremble in his voice.

  Celia didn’t speak a word. Instead, she fought to get her atrophied body out of the bed. Her legs wiggled like jelly as she pushed herself up from the edge and stood on the floor for the first time in months. Bracing herself against the bed, she took slow, deliberate steps towards Landon. Her feet slipped out from under her on numerous occasions, but the frame supported her weight.

  The way she glared at him was terrifying: Her eyes were trained on him with deadly focus, her pupils were dilated, her eyebrows were furrowed, and her eyelids twitched repeatedly. She looked possessed. It was like a character from a horror movie had jumped off the screen and landed in front of him: a young girl possessed by demons clawing her way toward her next victim.

  As she approached with unwavering wrath, Landon found himself torn between terror and confusion. Clueless as to what was going on, he writhed and wiggled against his invisible restraints, frantically trying to pry himself off the wall, while concentrating on combating her telekinetic force. But he couldn’t overpower her.

  When she reached the end of the bed, Celia paused, panting with exhaustion. Being bedridden for weeks had taken its toll on her body, making it strenuous just to walk a few feet. But she wouldn’t stop. Afte
r wiping the sweat from her forehead, she gritted her teeth with determination, mustered all her energy and thrust herself forward.

  Landon watched in horror as her body lurched toward him. Her legs dragged against the tile, squeaking against the hard surface as they pulled on her body. He didn’t think she’d make it. Even though he was petrified by her demonic state, he couldn’t help but worry that she might crack her head against the floor or the edge of the table, inadvertently sending herself into another coma.

  Celia crashed into him with a resounding thud. Grabbing on for life, she latched onto Landon’s shoulders, her fingers wrapping around his collarbones and pressing into his skin, sending subtle waves of pain through Landon’s body as she dug deeper and deeper to maintain her hold. He tried to reach out to catch her, but his arms were pinned against the wall.

  Her body was warm against his, much warmer than Landon thought normal. In the moments after she reached him, she treated him like an inanimate support. She pulled herself up with laborious grunts and heaves, her body sliding against his as she fought to get to her feet. Landon thought wryly of his concern about inappropriately touching her.

  Her eyes were glassy from the remnants of tears brought forth by physical exertion, and her body twitched and strained, but the fury she directed at Landon never waned. She was weak and feeble, yet she moved with unrelenting passion, discounting any physical weakness as easily surmountable with enough willpower.

  “What are you doing?” Landon asked, his voice increasing in pitch. He was struggling to understand Celia’s erratic behavior.

  “Shut up!” Her lips quivered as she glared up at Landon, her head only to his chin, while she continued fighting to regain her footing. “You don’t get to talk to me . . . ever!” With a final push against Landon’s shoulders, Celia stood on her own again, holding onto him only to ensure she didn’t fall backward. “You—” she said in an accusatory manner between heavy breaths, “you trapped me in there.” She waved her finger in front of Landon’s face. The way her hand moved and her body swayed, she reminded Landon of his father during one of his drunken stupors. Landon was afraid she’d pass out at any moment. “So dark . . . so alone,” she mumbled, her head falling to the side as she spoke to herself in a seemingly delirious state. “Don’t ever talk to me again!” she yelled after refocusing on Landon. “Do you hear me? We’re done!”