Her hand dropped to my shoulder—a very familiar, even familial gesture. She had tears in her eyes as she looked at me for a long moment.
I must’ve had the same hazy luminescence she did. How long had it been since she’d seen another glowing Vital? I’d never come across another my whole life, and I’d traveled the world. She’d lived most of her life in this remote village. Had she ever seen one?
“My name is Tomoko Takata. It is a pleasure and an honor to meet another azayakana again. You bring an old lady much joy.”
She spoke in Japanese, but I understood most of it, only tripping up on a few words.
“Azayakana?” I turned to Mr. Takata, frowning. “I’m sorry. My Japanese is mediocre at best.”
He smiled and stepped forward. “The best translation into English is ‘Vivid.’ It is the word that is used to describe Vitals who glow, such as you.”
“Vivid.” I smiled to myself. It was kind of appropriate.
I turned back to Mrs. Takata. I had so many questions, and for the first time, I was in front of someone who could actually answer them.
Twenty-Four
Before I could start barraging the old lady with questions, her granddaughter insisted she show us to the bathrooms to freshen up.
“It is nearly dinner time. By the time you finish in the bathroom, I will have dinner on the table.”
Dutifully, we all followed her to the small bathroom in the back of the house and took turns. It was basic, but it had running water—an impressive feat considering how remote the village was.
I changed out of my sweaty clothes, splashed some water on myself, and tied my hair back into a braid.
The living space was abuzz with chatter when I came back. Several low tables were laden with food. There was room for everyone, including Youko’s husband and daughter and Mr. Takata’s three bodyguards.
Mrs. Takata was at the head of the table. She waved me over and patted a cushion next to her, so I settled myself down between her and Tyler. The rest of the guys spread themselves out among our gracious hosts.
The delicious spread contained a plethora of traditional Japanese dishes, such as noodle soup with vegetables, steamed trout, marinated duck, and of course, plenty of steamed rice. As the plates emptied, several carafes of sake appeared. I clinked glasses with Mr. Takata and took a drink, doing my best not to wince at the strong alcohol.
I managed to fumble through some chitchat with his family and grandmother in Japanese, but my knowledge of the language was far too lacking to have the kind of conversation I wanted to have with her.
“Would you mind translating for me?” I asked Mr. Takata.
He nodded and waited for me to speak.
I chewed on my lip, suddenly unsure where to start. I had so many questions; they were all trying to elbow to the forefront of my mind, creating a bottleneck.
Something had been bugging me since I first laid eyes on her, so I decided to start there. “Can you please ask her why I could tell she was Vivid—why I could see luminescence around her, but I couldn’t see it on my mother? She was like us too.”
Dutifully, Mr. Takata translated the discussion I’d been waiting to have since that day on the empty train platform.
“Your mother has not been around since you met your Bond?”
Technically, we’d “met” as kids, but I was pretty sure that wasn’t what she meant. “My mother died before I knew what I was.”
She nodded and patted my hand. “You did not see your mother’s glow because you had not yet formed your Bond. The Bond makes us stronger in all things, especially our connection to the Light.”
“Does she know what it is? The glow? What am I?”
“You are a Vital. There is no question about that. You have the Light and you have a Bond. Your Light shines brighter than others’. It is Vivid. You are Vivid.”
“Are there others like us? Has she met others? Why does no one know about this?”
“I knew two others—many years ago—a woman from a village nearby and a man from very far away. They told me of others but not very many. Both of them died in World War II. There have been no other Vivids in younger generations that I know of. In my time, it was something that was not understood, but it was respected. It was said that the glow was sent to us by God, his way of shining his light on our village and sending us strength. It was said that the birth of a Vivid heralded both a great blessing and a grave warning. Death and danger were sure to come, but God had sent us a Vivid to protect us. And indeed, my Bond and I had to do many things to protect our families, our village, our country. But when there is peace, there is no need for the Vivids. We have had a great many years of peace.”
I nodded, my mind whirling with the practical applications of what she was saying. What was the most probable scientific explanation?
I turned to Tyler. “Evolution? Could it be as basic as the idea that nature is compensating for the loss of life by providing a line of defense?”
“It makes sense.” He nodded, leaning his elbows on the table. “This could be a Variant DNA quirk. When certain levels of cortisol are in the pregnant mother’s system, indicating high levels of stress, it could result in the baby being born Vivid. But that doesn’t account for all the stresses of life. Why aren’t women in domestic violence situations giving birth to Vivids?”
“Maybe there needs to be more at play? I mean, we don’t really fully understand the Light. Maybe it has a better sense of what’s happening in the world than we do? But I’m not sure if that adds up either. While most of the Western world has had relative peace for decades, how do you explain the fact that there haven’t been any reports of Vivids popping up in the Middle East, for example?”
“Maybe there have been,” Josh jumped in. “But the number of Variants relative to humans is much lower in that part of the world, thanks to the discriminatory laws during the sixties and seventies. A lot of Variants flee that area. And if it’s dangerous to even have a common ability like super speed, I doubt anyone would be shouting from the rooftops that they can glow.”
“True.” I nodded and turned back to Mrs. Takata. “Do you know why the world is so oblivious to our existence? Why there aren’t even any mentions in history books?”
“The Lighthunters.” She smiled and took a sip of her sake.
Lighthunters? The time we’d spent with Nina a few months prior had certainly confirmed they were real, but any time I’d tried to question her more deeply about her nature, she’d managed to artfully change the topic.
She’d told me all I wanted to know about Variant Bonds, my own Bond and the connections within it, how to follow my instincts when it came to the Light, even about her own Lighthunter abilities. She was a well of knowledge, but sitting there, I realized just how well she’d avoided my questions about other Lighthunters and why the world thought they were a myth.
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand.” I frowned. “What do the Lighthunters have to do with it?”
“They are called Lighthunters because they are most well-known for finding the threads, connecting the Bonds. But they are also our protectors. Or they were. They shielded us from those who thought Vivids were dangerous, who thought it wasn’t natural to have that much Light. They did a very good job hiding us, and we were so rare already. Then there were fewer and fewer Vivids being born. I hadn’t heard of a single other like me until my grandson came with news of an extraordinary American girl.” She smiled at him, then at me, the deep laugh lines around her eyes and mouth crinkling. By this stage, the whole table had fallen silent, their full attention on the matriarch and her wisdom.
“It is not surprising to me that between how rare we are and the Lighthunters’ work, the world simply . . . forgot.”
“I remembered.” Mr. Takata spoke in Japanese, but the words were simple enough that I understood them. “I remembered your stories, grandmother.”
She patted him on the hand, pride in her eyes.
“Please excuse me
if this is rude, but where are your Variants?” I asked before I could stop myself. I had a feeling I knew the answer, since none of them were by her side.
“Passed. All four of them. Two were killed a very long time ago, one died in an accident, and one about fifteen years ago from old age.”
I looked down the table at my Bondmates—my strong, beautiful, fiercely protective men. I couldn’t imagine losing any of them. The mere thought sent pain shooting through my chest, and I involuntarily rubbed the spot. When I turned back to face the old woman, she was watching the hand at my breastbone.
“Yes, it is painful. Your connection is strong. You would not be Vivid without it.” She stared into my eyes as though she could see right into my soul. I remained silent.
“You were made to make them strong.” She gestured down the table with a swoop of her hand. “But they make you strong too. They cannot do what they do without your Light, but you cannot do what you do without them. That is why Vivids have more Variants in their Bonds than regular Vitals do. With practice, you may have learned to draw and transfer Light without a Bond, but it would have required an extreme amount of focus, would have been very taxing on your body. I have not glowed since my Variants died. I am old and weak and no longer have their strength to make it possible. Your Bond is the same. You can take not only from them but from all sources of Light around you because they give so freely. It is the ultimate symbiotic relationship.”
“I make them strong, but they make me strong too.” I parroted her words, and she nodded. I’d never thought of it like that, but it made sense.
In a regular Bond, the Vital channeled the Light and transferred it to their Variants; the Vital made the Variants strong. But in a Vivid Bond—in our Bond—they also made me strong. I could take from one and transfer to another. I could draw Light into me simply by willing it to come, and I could push it out to them without moving a muscle. The longer I’d been with them, the stronger our connection had grown, the easier it had become.
Yes, training helped, but my Light undeniably became more a part of me the more I used it. Every time my Bond and I got closer physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, I got stronger.
I brought us all together, tied us irrevocably to each other. I made them stronger than they ever could’ve been alone.
But they provided the foundation on which our collective strength was built. Each one of them was a solid, unwavering pillar in his own way.
Ethan always craved family, and when we found each other, he was immediately all in. I represented what he’d lost and all that he could have in the future. I was family, and he was devoted heart and soul.
Josh observed everything quietly from behind his clean-cut look and his books. It was his way of feeling in control in a chaotic world that had taken his parents away. But I saw the real him. From the start, I saw who he truly was, and I loved him for it. We showed each other that letting go of control could be freeing.
No one exercised greater control than Tyler. He’d resisted the pull from the first moment, before he even knew what it was. He’d continued resisting after he knew everything, even the things I didn’t, even when it required him to sacrifice his own wants and needs. Because that was what was best for me, best for all of us. We’d needed time, and Tyler had made sure we’d had it.
Alec had been there from the start. And I don’t mean that day in the hospital after the crash; I mean the very start, when we were all kids and had no idea of the hurdles we’d have to jump in order to be together. He was the one who’d made this possible. Because he never gave up on me, even when he knew it would make him more the monster he believed himself to be. Even when he resented it, he kept looking for me. He yearned for me and what I represented.
And he yearns still.
He was engaged in a conversation with Mr. Takata’s cousin, but as though he felt my gaze on him, he looked up and met my eyes.
He’d been an asshole—a jerk of epic proportions. We’d both made mistakes, and he’d hurt me more than I thought possible. But he’d also changed. He’d worked his ass off to let me in, to embrace our Bond. He’d told me he loved me, and he’d been showing it every day since. Even as I continued to push him away. Even as I told the others I loved them.
Even as I continued to hurt him.
“You all must be exhausted.” Mr. Takata’s cousin started clearing the table. “Let me show you where you will sleep.”
Youko and her family were staying with her husband’s family, giving up their entire home so my Bond, Mr. Takata, and his security guys could have somewhere to sleep. We were set up in the biggest room in the back, on futon mattresses. A paper screen provided the only privacy.
All five of us were to sleep in the same room together. We’d never done that before—not intentionally. I’d shared a bed with more than one of them on numerous occasions, and there had been those few times, usually after someone tried to kill one of us, that we’d all ended up in the same room. Some of them usually wound up squished on a couch or making do with a pillow on the floor.
But this was the first time we were essentially all sleeping in the same bed.
We were strangely quiet as we got ready for sleep, taking turns in the bathroom, undressing, getting under the covers. Maybe it was because we were so tired, or because the walls were literally paper thin and we could hear Mr. Takata snoring lightly in the main living area.
I wasn’t sure where the silence was coming from, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable, and I couldn’t stop smiling.
Naturally, I ended up in the middle, with Tyler on one side and Josh on the other. Ethan was behind Josh; Alec on the other side of Tyler. The others fell asleep quickly, but I lay on my back, feeling safe and right between them but unable to sleep despite how tired I was.
Yes, the new information was running through my mind, making a million new questions pop up. But mostly, I couldn’t stop thinking about Alec.
He was just on the other side of Tyler, but he felt so far away. That was my fault.
I felt it, so why couldn’t I say it? It had come so easily with the others, so why was it so damn hard with him to wrap my mouth around those words?
Careful not to wake the others, I lifted myself onto my elbows. I just wanted a glimpse of his face, the strong jaw, the scar through the eyebrow, the tiny kink in his nose.
But when I looked over, his stunning ice-blue eyes were staring right back at me. Alec was on his back, one arm propped behind his head, the blanket pushed down around his hips. He was just as wide awake as me.
At the same time, we smiled, an exchange that wordlessly said both “Why aren’t you sleeping?” and “You can’t sleep either?”
I sighed lightly and inclined my head toward the door, raising my brows.
He nodded and, with lithe, completely soundless movements, managed to get up without jostling the three sleeping men jammed into bed with us. I knew he was highly trained in how to be super stealthy and shit, but that was seriously impressive. I’d have to get him to teach me how to do that.
I crawled over Tyler much less gracefully while Alec silently laughed at me. I flipped him off as I grabbed a light cardigan off the top of my bag and he pulled on a pair of pants.
I led the way through the house, past the sleeping men in the main room, and out the front door. Alec closed it softly.
He was in nothing but a black pair of pants; I was in a tank, shorts, and my loose cardigan. Thankfully, the cobblestones were still warm on my toes from the hot summer sun, and it was a mild night.
We threaded our fingers together and slowly wandered down the curving lane. There were no streetlights, and half the houses probably didn’t even have electricity, but the light of the moon was more than enough to light our way. At the end of the lane, warm stones gave way to soft grass as we reached the edge of a wide grassy knoll, the beginning of the steep hill into the valley.
Darkness stretched below us in the valley, but above, billions of stars shone down f
rom a magnificent, cloudless sky, taking my breath away.
For all my travel, I’d never been in a place with so little light pollution. I knew how vast the universe was—how many stars, planets, and other celestial bodies were visible in our night sky—but I’d never seen it so clearly.
The curve of the Milky Way started behind the blue-black outline of the mountains across the valley, then curved above us to disappear somewhere to our backs and to the left. I craned my neck to follow it, my mouth hanging open in awe. Alec wrapped his arms around me from behind, and I rested my head on his chest, just staring up.
I picked out several constellations and planets: Ursa Major, Pegasus, and the brightly glowing, slightly reddish spot that was Mars, some 33.9 million miles away.
If the lifetime of the universe were put into the span of a day, humans would have only existed for the past four seconds. Thinking about that made all the drama and conflict around us feel somehow lighter. When all this was over and no one even remembered our names, the universe would still be shining bright; the Earth would still be here. Life would go on.
The longer I stared, the closer the night sky seemed. Eventually it almost felt as if I were among the stars, as if I could reach out and touch them and they would feel like smooth velvet under my fingers.
Without realizing, I reached a hand out toward the sky. Alec chuckled, his warm chest jostling my back, and I lowered my arm, smiling to myself.
Neither of us had spoken a word. This place was almost magic in its peace.
It was time for me to break the silence.
There was one pressing thing that still mattered, even though we were barely a speck in the dust that was the universe.
I turned in his arms, putting my back to the most amazing view I’d ever seen.
He’d kept a long-sleeved shirt on at all times since we’d arrived in the more remote areas, where tattoos didn’t have positive connotations. But now his ink and scars were on full display—his art and pain worn like armor. I ran my hands over his chest and shoulders, feeling the strong muscle under the soft skin.
Vivid Avowed (The Evelyn Maynard Trilogy Book 3) Page 28