Awoken (The Lucidites Book 1) (36 page)

Salty, humid air wraps around my face. Waves stroke the beach with each beat of the current. Directly in front of me, waist deep, Zhuang stands. The gentle waters move around him. His mustache twitches ever so slightly, betraying the satisfaction he’s trying to conceal.

Zhuang pulls his lip up in disgust. “It astonishes me that the one person with the opportunity to end my reign is such a weak specimen.”

Me too
. “If it’s not true that we were destined to meet, then why are you here? Why are you wasting your time on me?” Doubt etches my words.

A laugh like a box of matches rattling echoes from Zhuang’s chest. “For all the glory the Lucidites pretend to deserve, they’re so extremely ignorant. A shame you’ve chosen to align yourself with such misinformed people.”

Knowing it’s unwise to speak aloud, I reach out to Samara.
What’s he going on about? Do you know? Does George?
Samara is the liaison between George and me since it’s harder for me to communicate directly with him; his language is foreign to me, all slippery emotions, like a bowl of worms.

I’m not certain
, Samara finally admits.

Still no hold, huh?

None
, she confesses.
But George thinks he might be trying to goad you, so be careful.

Zhuang’s black pupils stretch across the waters separating us, cutting me with cold. “You became their challenger believing you and I were destined to duel, is that right?”

I glare over the dark waters.

A demonic spark glints in his eyes. “Destiny has nothing to do with it.”

“But you even said it was forecast,” I say.

“I said you were forecast as having the opportunity to end my reign. You’re the challenger the Lucidites have chosen and that person does have a certain power over me.” When he scowls, wrinkles and pits mark his face, like a rock found at the bottom of a quarry. “But the stakes are high for them because their challenger, although forecast to have the ability to kill me, also holds the one ingredient I need to succeed.”

He grins, showing ugly, yellow teeth. “You, little girl, are the key to unlocking what I truly want. If I absorb your consciousness then I’ll have the capacity to take over the millions I desire, something I’ve long anticipated.” He skips his hand along the surface of the water, and with it the waves intensify. “I’ve waited ages for you to be born.” His words echo for miles in my mind.

“You’re lying,” I bark over the beating pulse in my head.

Another cackle escapes his mouth. “Why would I be here wasting my time if this wasn’t the truth?”

“None of this makes sense. Why would you embed Misty, possess her, and make her the challenger, if you were truly after me?” A new confidence overcomes my apprehension. Cocking my head to the side I say, “How do you explain that?”

“You’re right,” Zhuang acquiesces at once. “From your small perspective that would make no sense. Misty was a pawn I controlled. She was supposed to score high enough to earn a place on this team you have assisting you. Her place there would assure this fight was brief and my victory decisive. I am an army of one, but I have been known to employ soldiers to ensure success.”

One eyebrow arches over menacing eyes. “Unlucky for me I did a poor job selecting my soldier in the case of Misty. Her own greed for recognition overtook her, planting her in the position of challenger. I didn’t worry though, for I knew soon the embedding I had done to her would make her unfit. The Lucidites would never put her up against me. I knew the challenger, the true one, would take her place. And here you are, your consciousness so fresh and vast, ready to be absorbed.”

“If this is all true, then why didn’t you kill me ages ago?”

“I would have, but the riddle states that the person with a consciousness expansive enough to store millions will be revealed as a challenger chosen by the Lucidites and sent to meet me on this date. I had no definitive way of knowing who this person was, until now.”

“Then why did you stalk me? Why did you go after my family? Kill my cats?”

A satisfied smile spreads over Zhuang’s face. “I just couldn’t help myself. I was curious, so I spied on everyone on the list. And in the case of your family, the timing was right…I was hungry.” A repulsed grimace knits his brow together. “And I hate cats.”

I reach out with my mind for Samara, needing her to help me navigate this misdirection.

Her voice is barely audible over my breathing.
It’s all true.

Those three words convulse in my chest, squeezing my heart, taking away oxygen from my lungs. This has all been a trap. A cleverly orchestrated one, set up by Zhuang. And all of the Lucidites, everyone I care about, have fallen into it. And now he will take what he wants, from me, from everyone. I’ve willingly walked into this disaster giving him exactly what he needs. I’m the key. Those words strike me with a rough blow. None of this seems possible and yet I can’t explain it away.

The idea occurs to me that I should escape back to the Institute where I’ll be safe. But as Zhuang’s beady eyes search mine, I know I can’t go through with it. This is our chance to destroy him. I must get him to follow me, but in order to do that I have to turn the tables. I need to take back control of this fight.

Fidgeting with my earlobe I say, “Does this forecast state when this duel is over, because I’m getting kind of bored.”

He cackles. With a lick of his thumb the waves around him soften. “Did you know the Lucidites have a law you can’t disturb objects in the physical realm while dream traveling? They care so much about the filthy perspectives of Middlings.” Zhuang spits with disgust. “They don’t want these lowlives to be scared by flying objects. But I don’t care much for rules. Besides, those idiots will just dismiss it as a natural disaster.”

He outstretches his arms and behind him a huge wave, twenty feet tall, rises up like a curtain. It pulses, hovering angrily, threatening to crash forward. Zhuang jerks his head to the side. “You’re it,” he hisses and disappears.

A shade of water drops, crushing the beach. Powerfully the water rages forward, swallowing me and everything in its wake. There’s nothing I can do. I can’t stop it or run or even travel. It forces me far onto the beach, pushing and striking. My head rams against something hard. Water rushes, driving me in all directions. I know I can’t recover from this and get to his ripple in time. So I close my eyes. It isn’t easy to block out the turbulence, or allow myself to get pummeled, or feel the water in my lungs. I endure it, though, and maintain my focus until I sense the soft darkness of the neat space around me. Slowly I sink to my knees as I taste the musty air of the safe house I’ve entered. Then the coughing and choking begins, but I welcome it over my own death.

“Are you all right?” The voice is in my head
and
in front of me.

“Joseph!” I cough angrily. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to check on you,” he says, looking at my head. “You’re bleedin’. Are you all right?”

“It’s a scratch.” I push blood away with my fingertips.

Joseph gives a slow nod. “Well, even still, maybe I should take a round or two for you. Give him someone new to play with. What do ya think?” He grins halfheartedly.

“I think you’ve lost your mind.” I take a sip of breath.

“But—”

“We can’t argue about this.”

“Energy stores though,” Joseph insists. “He has to kill me too in order for that to work. That must be what that means.”

“None of this makes sense right now, and we haven’t the time to figure it out. We’re sticking with the plan,” I say.

A small expression in Joseph’s eyes almost empties me of resolve.
What if he’s right? What if we could do this together and actually have a chance of defeating Zhuang?
Something else at that moment seizes ahold of me. It’s a message. Something sent from the divine. Like wisps of smoke its words drift away once imprinted on my consciousness.
Only you,
it says.

“Guys,” Samara interrupts. “I finally got a hold on him.”

It’s about time.

“Hey, give me a break,” Samara revolts.

“Location!” I demand. “I need it now!”

“St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome.”

“Present day?” I ask nervously.

“I think so,” Samara says as if to herself.

“Got it,” I say into the headset. “All right, I’m going to try and get him to follow me again as we planned.”

Joseph shakes his head, encouraging me to abandon the plan.

“You know the locations and sequence,” I urge, looking at him earnestly. “I’m going to move fast. When I get a hundred layers deep, I’ll return to the Institute and hope he hits a snag.” Joseph looks away, and I give one last directive. “George, Samara, find his body.” With my nervous face veiled, I say to my brother, “See you later.”

He stares at me; a petulant expression is all he offers. I fade away.

Chapter Forty-Four

T
he Tiber River under the bridge makes no noise. It sits calmly, as if entombed between the banks of lush grassy lawns. I once read executed criminals were thrown into these waters. Picturing ancient bones lying on the bottom of this river makes my stomach lurch with unease.

The dome of St. Peter’s Basilica stands to my left. Michelangelo’s love for God is evident in the supremacy of the structure, which weakens my knees. My agnostic heart bows to a place created by men, fit for God.

Zhuang, like a statue, is poised ten feet away, chest forward, feet wide, hands by his side. Proud. This could be the weakness I use to my advantage. Maybe Zhuang has underestimated me in overestimating his own skills. His greed also could be a shortcoming. It glints in his eyes, reminding me of a ravenous dog.

The plan, the only way we’ve determined will kill Zhuang, has merit. At most, I could hope to wound him in an actual flight. But he’s too fast, strong, and powerful. I must trap his consciousness by getting him to track me and then find his physical body. I’ll have to autogenerate my body at that point and move as quickly as possible. That’s not the part that keeps the worry churning through my stomach. I’ve practiced and prepared for this day, but still I can’t see myself holding a blade and plunging it into his flesh. My sensei, Mario, urged me to visualize the entire fight including its end; each time I do though, I’m overwhelmed with darkness and dread.

A flock of birds travels over our heads. I keep my eyes trained on Zhuang. He sneers, disdain unfurling from the corners of his mouth. “Found me, did you, little girl? Thanks to the help of your friends.”

I dismiss him and ready my confidence for the descent through a hundred layers.

“Roya.” George’s voice, like a single string being strummed on a violin, startles me. I gasp and wait for him to continue. “Something’s wrong. I’m getting a horrible feeling.”

“What else did you expect? Zhuang surely has an aura which would unsettle even Hitler,” Trent says.

“This is different.” George’s tone makes me throb with anxiety.

Zhuang’s words command everyone’s attention. “Little girl, how weak you must be that you can’t face me on your own.”

I stare at him, unblinking.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Zhuang says with a shake of his head. “You understand I must insist you fight me fairly. It really is the noble way.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me; you’re going to question my nobility. You don’t follow rules, remember?” I accuse.

“You know,” Zhuang whispers hoarsely, “I really could not risk it. She had to go first. I need to know when I kill you, it’s for good.”

What does he mean?
A shooting sensation pulses through my limbs.
Masking desperation I say, “Leave my team out of this. This fight is between you and me.”

He makes a guttural sound. “I agree, this fight should be only between the two of us.” His cold chortle echoes along the river. “But it’s entirely too late to leave these people you’ve dragged along out of it.”

A chilling desperation shatters the fog in my head. I’m just about to ask for a roll call when Zhuang interrupts. “The interesting thing about healers is, they’re incredibly easy to kill. Very weak, you see.”

All blood rushes to my head, making my ears hot. I know I need to run, to travel, but I can’t move. My hands are numb.
He’s lying. He must be. Samara?! Confirm this!

“But,” he purrs, “you’ll be glad to know when I killed her, she didn’t even cry. She seemed to think this was important and wanted you to know. Isn’t that sweet?” His last word is broken into an extra syllable and it crawls over my skin like the scratchy legs of a cockroach. Zhuang sinks into a deep lunge and thrust his hand into the air expectedly.

Seconds pass as long pulses flow through my veins. Something flickers in his bony fingers and then solidifies. In his outstretched hand Zhuang holds his long, curved sword—a falchion. Gold at the handle, silver on the blade, and red at the tip. A single droplet of blood descends off the end and lands on the pavement.
Plat.
My stomach twists. I can’t move. The small spot of blood on the pavement soaks up my attention like a sponge. Whitney’s blood. The idea burns my insides with disgust and grief.

Zhuang straightens and eyes the blood on the sword like it’s a delicious piece of meat. A cloth appears in his opposite hand and he runs it across the blade until it’s clean. “One down,” he growls, looking at the sword. Then he flashes his creepy black and gold eyes on me. “Five to go.” And he’s gone.

Terror races through me in a way I’ve yet to feel. I sprint forward. “Team, move! Now!” I scream and seize his ripple. Seconds later I’m in the darkened room where we left Samara. I squint, willing my eyes to adjust. In the corner I spy the tiniest movement, like someone is stroking the air. It’s the most recent ripple.
But whose?
I absorb the tracers in the ripple and immediately it’s apparent I’m following Zhuang.

So quickly everything’s fallen apart.

I stand in the room where George had been moments prior. Not terror, but rather a dull ache, like someone has stripped away my solace, quivers through my being. I itch and twitch with a fervent determination to get back what was mine. The idea that Zhuang has killed George makes it easy to see myself plunging a blade into his chest, grinding it past muscle and bone, until it punctures an organ, bathing him in his own blood.