Stunned (The Lucidites Book 2) (17 page)

Alright, I get that I’m sounding extra whiny right now, but I don’t dare tell anyone else how ambivalent I am about the modifier. The Institute isn’t forcing me to use it, but I don’t really have a choice, do I? I have to use it if I want to survive and rescue Aiden. But why is it that the Lucidites always pretend I have a choice when in fact I don’t?

You don’t have to answer that. Actually you don’t have to answer this email at all, although you always do. I just needed to vent, as I’m sure you’ve already gathered.

Love,

Ms. Apparently-I-have-no-real-moral-code-McGillicuddy

P.S. When I come to live with you, after I’ve sold my soul to the Lucidite Gods, can I have a cat…or two?

“Oh, hey there, Roya,” Trey calls to me as I leave the computer lab. Since I’m in an “I hate the Lucidites” mood, it’s probably the worst time to run into none other than the Head of the Institute. I have impeccable timing for this kind of stuff.

“Hey,” I say, trying to mask my expression behind an acceptable one.

“Is everything all right?” Trey asks with concerned eyes.

“I suppose.”

“Do you need to talk?”

Chewing on my pinky fingernail I shake my head.

“Okay, well, you know I’m here if you do need anything.”

Somehow I doubt that.
Trey keeps pretending to have this open door policy, but I don’t buy it. It’s a ruse to garner trust. He’s mastered the art of politics: telling people what they want to hear, keeping pertinent details vague, and making appearances brief and rushed.

A quiet, awkward moment passes. Trey studies my face. I’m trying to decide how to end this whole small talk conversation.

“I’m sure the stress of the current mission is weighing on you greatly.” He runs his fingers through his silver hair, a look of stress in his turquoise eyes. The Head of the Institute looks older than he did a month ago. “Thank you for taking the lead on this mission. You have to believe me when I say I don’t want to put any more responsibility on you. But this project is too important and I wholeheartedly believe you’re the right person to lead it.”

“Why? Why do you ‘wholeheartedly believe’ this?” I ask bluntly. Trey thinks he can ask me to risk my life again and again using reasons that lack specifics.

He clears his throat. Looks around without seeing. “I have a multitude of reasons, actually. Primarily, you’re powerful. So much so that Zhuang specifically wanted to acquire
your
consciousness. This power lends you extraordinary talents. The abilities that come naturally for you are effort for others. Honestly, I don’t think you value these skills because you’ve never had to work for them.”

Leave it to Trey to tell me I’m talented and seriously out of touch. And like I suspected, he’s not telling me what I want to hear, but rather whatever it will take to convince me to sacrifice myself for the Lucidites. An impatient sigh falls out of my mouth. “Trey, I really—”

“I’m not finished,” he cuts me off. “You asked and I’m prepared to explain why you were picked to lead this mission. You deserve to know and I’d like the opportunity to tell you. Will you allow that?”

“Yeah,” I say, sensing an invasion in my thoughts or heart. What
is
Trey’s ability? Is he telepathic? Does he know how much I hate him?

“Secondly,” Trey continues, looking at me with a skeptical expression, “you’re my choice not only because of your mental and physical agility, but also because you rely on your instincts. I can’t even begin to tell you how important this is in the work we do here. It takes awareness and faith, both traits you possess.”

His words sound too rehearsed, his voice too matter-of-fact. Is this whole speech printed in the secret Lucidite manual under “How to get others to do what you want”?

“And lastly, I picked you because of your integrity. I value the way you conduct yourself at the Institute. Even though you’ve had many reasons not to trust me or many of the people here you still treat us respectfully. I need the leader of this team to be someone who isn’t corruptible, because you’re about to meet people who value no one but themselves. If you were the least bit immoral then they’d break you down. But I have every reason to believe you’re not.”

Well, geez, thanks, coming from a bald-faced liar that really means a lot.

Trey studiously apprises me. “Those are my reasons for choosing you. I sincerely believe them, but I fear the more I try to convince you of that the more you think I’m manipulating you, which isn’t the case.”

Now it’s my turn to examine him. Stone-faced, I study every single one of his microexpressions as I ask, “How would you know what I think?”

He draws in a long inhale. “I don’t, but I have my suspicions.”

If he wants me to trust him then he can start by telling me something personal. “What
is
your talent?”

Trey’s left eye twitches. Only once, but I see it. Not certain what it could mean. Is he about to lie? “I have a few actually.”

A few? Is that possible?

“Roya, I’m happy to satisfy your curiosity on this, but not right now. I’m late for a meeting.”

Of course.
Short office hours ensure the truth stays locked away and the lies keep circulating.

“Okay, well, thanks for sharing your reasons with me.”

He nods, accepting my dingy bit of gratitude.

“I’ll make time for us to talk again soon,” Trey says, pinching his mouth together.

“Sounds good,” I say, my voice artificially casual.

Chapter Twenty-Four

I
have never been happier to walk into the combat studio. Hitting something sounds like a fantastic idea right now. Since everyone, except for Pearl, already has experience with kung fu this is the method we’re practicing. Ren and Shuman both agree that it’s most likely that any battle with a Voyageur will be wholly mental. However, we’re being prepared for anything, even if that means a good ol’ fistfight.

Before Joseph has a chance to pair up with someone else I recruit him as my sparring partner. He’s the only person on the team who deserves my wrath. Right before we begin I picture that he’s Amber.

“Damn, Stark, someone put Tabasco in your eggs this morning?!” Joseph says a minute later. He stumbles back, checking over his arms like they might already have bruises.

I smile. Then I remember his little stunt the night before when he was trying to get me to open my door. With my arms up in block position, I spin backwards on the ball of my front foot, tuck in my opposite leg, swing it around behind me and then forward. My foot slams into Joseph’s chest, sending him to the ground instantly. I love spin kicks. Joseph remains planted on the mat, a stunned look on his face. “Are you freaking kidding me? Did that just happen?”

“It did,” I reassure him, holding out my hand to help him up.

“What’s your deal? You could have killed me,” he says, eyeing my hand suspiciously.

“Oh, stop whining. I only used a fraction of my strength. But let this be a lesson to you. You may know what’s in my head, but I can still kick your ass.”

If I’m completely honest with myself then I have to admit the team is a pretty lousy bunch of fighters. Samara can throw a strong kick if she concentrates, but she isn’t much good for anything else. Pearl appears to be about as dangerous as Whitney was, which means she leaves her attacker feeling warm and comforted after an altercation. The rest of the bunch is laughable at best. None of them really had to focus on fighting before because it had been up to me to hone my kung fu skills. Now that we’re all facing mortal danger, they’re going to need to be able to protect themselves if the situation becomes dire.

“Why can’t we just carry guns?” Trent asks, rubbing his shoulder like he’s in pain.

“Guns are for cowards,” our sensei, Mario, says.

“Well, I’ll take two.” Trent laughs.

Mario shakes his head at Trent in disapproval. “I do agree that carrying a weapon is a good idea. Martial arts weaponry is all extremely useful in battle. Now, if you have a weapon on you when you dream travel to the Grotte then it should be with you once you generate. However, the only way to ensure this is to choose a weapon and make it yours.”

He directs our attention to a rack of assorted weapons and tells us to practice. I spend the rest of the morning and early afternoon taking each weapon and trying out different moves. The nunchakus were at first my favorite because I like their balance and grace. However, the speed that’s absolutely necessary to pull off a good nunchakus attack is intimidating. The bo staff also appeals to me greatly, but after about half an hour of practice I admit that I’m too petite to effectively manage such a large weapon. In the end I find the escrima sticks fit me perfectly and give that extra bit of power I’m looking for. They’re about a little longer than my forearm and an inch and a half in diameter. In essence they’re sticks, but when I show an interest in using them Mario demonstrates a dozen techniques. This includes everything from blocking, punching, and disarming. By the end I’m absolutely certain that I want to have these weapons by my side in battle.

“This afternoon you’ll be fitted for your gear,” Mario says. “Be sure to tell the seamstress that you want a compartment built into the shoulder area for holding these.”

“Gear?” I ask.

“Trey wants you all outfitted in Kevlar suits,” Mario explains. “The material is knife resistant. It may not prevent an injury, but it might lessen its severity.”

♦

We’re told we should dream travel that night, but only within the walls of the Institute. Dream traveling mixed with regular dreaming is the best way to maintain a balance. However, Trey still fears that it’s too unsafe to dream travel outside the Institute with the Voyageurs on alert and ready to attack.

It’s weird to think that we’ll all be like ghosts meandering randomly around, haunting the Institute for six or eight hours tonight. I understand though. Dream travel is a talent that must be practiced regularly, like meditation. And there’s a level of awareness that comes during dream traveling which is unique to that state.

I dream travel to my room and speed read through half a dozen books. Past the point of restlessness, I venture out into the hallway on a mission to explore. I float through the second level without so much as hearing a creak. Maybe I’m the only one who’s decided to leave my room. The first level, which is usually the nosiest, is eerily quiet. I’m strolling at an even pace, enjoying the way the silence transforms the corridor. Putting one foot in front of the other at a measured pace, I feel a release start to expand in my body. In my mind I’m walking a labyrinth. With each step I let go of things I need to leave behind: worry about Aiden, fear of failure, concern for Joseph, fits of emotional numbness, and the anxiety that accompanies every thought in my head. My labyrinth’s center, the place I’m not journeying to but will arrive at regardless, is the lobby. This is where I’ll make my wish: to face this challenge as a whole person, one who uses all parts—mind, body, and spirit—to overcome obstacles. Then I’ll return on my path, rewinding the labyrinth through the Institute. Since being a robot didn’t work, I’m hoping this new approach does. I need something, something to assure me I can face the upcoming challenge.

I’m three feet from the lobby when I hear his voice. I freeze, listen.

“Girl, I don’t know, I guess I never really thought ’bout it.”

“Well…” The girl giggles. “If you could, would you go with me?”

“Yeah.” Joseph gives a forced laugh. “Yeah, if it were possible to dream travel to the moon, I’d go with you.”

That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.

The tell-tale signs of kissing assault my ears, sending a creepy grossness over my skin. More giggling. More kissing. Heat rises in my head. Why is Joseph making out with some lame-ass girl in a public place? One where Samara could find him? Why is he acting so revolting? I want to strangle him—in the non–life threatening way.

Instead, I retreat. Feeling yet again frustrated with my brother I start down the hallway where I came. He used to be the sweetest person I knew, using his social skills to make others feel at ease. Now in just half a month’s time he’s become secretive, strange, and a two-timer. The harder I try to focus on what he’s been hiding, the more it eludes me. I have no idea why I can’t zero in on him and it’s driving me bonkers.

I round the corner, infiltrated by these thoughts, and run into Samara. Her whitish blonde hair is draped in long pigtails. She smiles softly at me when we connect.

“Oh, hey there,” she says. “I went by your room earlier, but you must have already been off. It’s tough to find something to do for the whole night around this place.”

“Yeah,” I say, feeling suddenly nervous. “Why don’t we go to the combat studio? We can practice blocks.”

“Roya, do you ever take a break?”

“Of course, but not when a dangerous mission is hanging over my head. That kind of thing usually ruins any respite.”

“Well, you should think about taking the night off. It can’t be good for you to constantly train. You’re going to wear yourself out,” Samara says with a look of concern on her face.

“If I do and we all survive, then it will be worth it.”

“All right, it sounds like there’s no convincing you. But you’re going to have to wear yourself out alone. I’ve got to find Joseph.”

Her last statement makes my eyes bulge.

“Is everything all right?” Samara asks.

“Yeah, fine. I’m just peeved at him.”

Samara looks at me, interest written on her face. “Because…?”

“He owes me money,” I lie.

She laughs. “Well, when I find him I’ll try and get it back for you.”

“Good luck with that.” I pull a piece of my hair into my fingers and begin twirling it. “Don’t go that way looking for Joseph,” I point in the direction I’ve just come from. “That is, unless you want to spend the rest of the night listening to Ren berate you about why you’re so pathetic.”