The Violet Awakening (The Elementum Trinity Book 2) (13 page)

Lyla and Joseph walked arm-in-arm, but made a very conscious and pained effort not to look each other in the eyes. It must have hurt, but it couldn’t have possibly hurt more than if Joseph were to be electrocuted to death.

“I awakened her, fully,” Lily said, as if the answer would be enough.

“
You don’t say
...” The sarcasm in Bryant’s voice made me smile. How had I never noticed the similarities between us, before?

“It’s a long story,” she said, pulling open her door when we finally returned to the van. I never thought I’d be happy to get back in the rust-bucket-on-wheels, but it was comforting to know that we would be heading back to the safety and predictability of the Eden.

“Coincidentally, we have a long ride ahead of us,” Bryant said, crawling into his seat after Joseph and Lyla had climbed all the way onto the back floor, which seemed less than safe.

“Fair enough,” Lily sighed.

The back roads of Maine were so dark at night. Not just compared to those of New York City, but in general. There was something mystical and creepy about the place, as if it were outside of time, and outside of life.

Lyla provided the soundtrack to our road trip, having noticed that the bits and strings combined from the old guitars in the back made for at least one playable instrument. Her voice was soft and soothing, the exact opposite of everything else about her. She played slow, mournful songs, some I could remember Emmy singing when I was younger. Eighteen years, and I hadn’t even known she was a musician. How well did any of us really know each other? We’d been so accepting, because that was how the Room made us to be. But who were we, as people?

Lily had done her best to explain the Violets in a way we could all understand, after we got out of the city. “Back when the majority of our kind had perished at the hands of The Destructive Ones,” she had said, taking on the tone of any great story-teller, “the life-forces of our fallen ones bonded with the closest living, earthly things they could find. Plants, mainly. Some humans eventually ate those plants, and the Elementum genes bonded with the bodies
in which they had found themselves, but they remained dormant. The genes have been passed down through generations. By this point, we believe every human carries the genes. When they come into physical contact with an Oracle, they’re awakened as a Violet.” That explained the gloves. Surely, Lily didn’t want to go around awakening Violets all willy-nilly.

“Their powers develop gradually, and strengthen over time. They can never work with the elements, as we do, but we’ve met some with very strong minds,” she’d said, eyes going glossy as she smiled in reminiscence. “It’s their natural instinct to feel protective over us when we are near, but other than that, the majority of them are unaware that we even exist.”

“How many are there?” I had asked.

“We’re not sure, but we know there are many. The older generations were not so careful about awakening Violets. With the growing acceptance of psychic abilities, most just see it as something paranormal. But their power starts out as a strong intuition. That’s why that woman knew Lyla was afraid, but didn’t know what of. She had been awakened recently enough that she could only go with her gut-feeling.”

“But,” I had said thoughtfully, “who awakened her?”

And, for that, Lily couldn’t find an answer. But it had left her uneasy, and had unintentionally led to
seven hours of silence, broken only by Lyla’s musical awesomeness.

Lyla had eventually explained that she didn’t mind coming with us. In fact, she was excited to be with others like us, and to use her
abilities freely—not that she’d ever made much of an effort to conceal them. But she’d thought the Violet-woman was one of William’s people, and she was concerned that we would be in more danger if we went to find her. When Joseph had asked why she didn’t tell us about the stalker, she’d said “I figured you would freak out, and try to come get me on your own.” To which Joseph had responded, “Damn straight.”

After leaving the van at Abigail’s house, we lumbered through the forest, stepping on the faint cracks of early-morning light that pressed through the tree-to
ps. The others had napped in the van, but every time I’d tried to sleep, my mind flashed images of clear-gray eyes and purple light. It hadn’t permitted any amount of shut-eye.

Lily and I had been awake for over twenty-four hours, and maybe it was due to the cool, Maine fog that floated around us, but exhaustion seemed to cover reality with a haze of static. Nonexistent noises found their way into my head, and the woods around us looked sharper, but unreal. Each step seemed to require more strength than the last, and by the time we made it to the waterfall, Lakin was all but dragging me by the waist. All I wanted to do was curl up on the uncomfortable floor of Lily’s living room, and pass out. Too much to ask for, of course.

Even as we walked toward the houses, it was easy to tell that something was wrong. Lily had stopped for just a moment, eyebrows lowering before she doubled her pace.

“What the hell is going on?” she shouted, swinging open the door of her house in a frenzy.

At first, my eyes fell on the two girls sitting in the far corner of the living room. Kayla was rocking back and forth, eyes wide and glistening, as Sarah comforted her with a steady arm. Reagan had left, and Cora and Nixon were sitting at the kitchen table; Cora sneering victoriously, and Nixon with his head buried in his palms. It wasn’t until I noticed Emmy that I realized what all the commotion was about. She was on the couch, hands zip-tied behind her back, and mouth plastered in duct tape. Third abduction-like-event I had walked in on in a day. New record.

“She’s working with Slate,” Nixon growled, eyelids sagging slightly as he looked up. It appeared that he hadn’t gotten any sleep, either.

Lily looked around in shock and rage, letting the scene fully settle into her brain. “So you tied her up? What did you expect her to do?”

“I… I
panicked,” he stuttered, unusually intimidated for such a large guy.

In that moment, Lily was
a complete stranger from the bubbly, cheery person I had met on my first day in the Eden. Even though she was small and fragile-looking, she was actually quite daunting, and her generation obviously knew and feared this. I wondered how many times they’d had to deal with the Wrath of Lily-beast in the past.

“I told you to stay out of her head,” Lily said through clenched teeth, traipsing over to the couch. “I already knew why she was here.”

“What?” Cora piped up, channeling Al’s expression so flawlessly that I had to glance twice to make sure my former psychologist had not returned in women’s clothing.

“Al told me in the Room, the night he was taken. He knew when they found her,” she said, producing a small knife from her pocket to cut Emmy’s zip-ties. Something about the thought of Lily having a concealed weapon took me by surprise. Not that a little knife could do more damage than her own hands, but exhaustion led me to imagine her wielding the thing about wildly, threatening to shank someone.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because she’
s not a threat, Cora,” Lily roared, trying to remove the duct tape from Emmy’s mouth as painlessly as possible. “She can’t do anything while she’s here, and she can’t leave without one of us leading her.”

Emmy gulped in the cool air through her mouth as she rubbed the deep, red lines on her wrists.

“I made you breakfast,” she gasped at Nixon, as if she felt betrayed by his actions.

“You were going to lead Slate to us,” he retorted.

“He took my son! Mr. Slate said if I wanted to see Eric again, I had to help him find you. What was I supposed to do?” she rambled, tears welling in her eyes.

“Emmy,” I spoke up, weak from fatigue, “William didn’t take your son. Eric is working with him.
Willingly
.”

“How dare you?” she called, glaring at me with hurt, watery eyes.

I shuffled over to the couch, using all my strength to drag my feet along the floor. Collapsing next to her, I struggled to keep my eyes open, taking her reluctant hands into my own. I had never tried to force a vision into a human, before. I didn’t even know if it was safe, or if it would work, but I thought it was worth the risk. Emmy needed to know the truth about her son. Her eyes clouded over as I replayed my most recent memories with Eric; his outbursts over Al; his unpredictable behavior about everything; his proposal. And then I played the night of my escape; the guards dragging me out of my apartment to William’s office; the revelation that Eric was responsible for nearly all of the information William had about my secrets, about my kind, and for no other reason than the fact that I didn’t feel how he wanted me to feel. I hadn’t meant to replay the part where William beat the crap out of me, but I stopped the vision a moment too late.

“You’
re lying,” she said, gripping her face as the pain from my broken nose faded.

“I’m not. I can’t lie when I play back memories…
can I
?” I whispered from the corner of my mouth in Lily’s direction, to which she responded with an inconclusive shrug.

“I can’t accept that.” Emmy’s words had an air of finality about them, but I knew her insides were wrenching with turmoil.

I understood her dilemma as she glared at me, forcing herself to believe that I was wrong, or that I was trying to deceive her. She may have raised me, but Eric was her child. Admitting to his wickedness would mean, in a way, admitting that she had failed as a parent. Not only in allowing him to become what he had become, but in not noticing the signs along the way. I couldn’t blame her for choosing not to believe. I didn’t want to believe it, either. But I didn’t have the option of denial.

“I know,” I said, looking down at my palms.

“Contrary to the impression I’m sure you’ve been given of us, we won’t keep you here if you want to leave,” Lily said.

Cora’s mouth fell open in protest, but she said nothing.

“I need to get my son back,” Emmy whispered, wrinkling her eyebrows almost apologetically.

“I understand,” Lily said quietly, nodding her head. “I think we could all use some rest. But someone will lead you out of the Eden this evening.”

“If Emmy’s leaving, we’re going with her,” Kayla piped up from the corner.

Sarah looked at her with confusion, and a hint of betrayal. She added, in a whisper, “Kay, I don’t want to leave.”

“What?” Kayla snapped quietly. Struggling out of Sarah’s comforting arm, she turned to face her fully. “How could you want to stay here, with
them
?”

The conversations faded into the background of my tired, blurry mind. In desperate need of sleep, I made a few attempts to get to my feet. Fatigue was determined to keep me on the couch, until Lakin walked over to pull me up.

“We’re just going to let them go? And then what? Wait for Slate’s men to show up?” Cora questioned, voice thick with anger.

“They’re not bad people,” Sarah said defensively from the corner.

A head-rush left me clumsy, stumbling just out of Lakin’s reach.

“We’ll move to a different refuge,” Lily answered, as if it had been obvious.

“They’re not people at all!” Kayla hissed, loud enough to demand the attention of those who had been participating in a separate discussion.

A thud, a clink, and puff of smoke later, I was staring down at the floor with wide eyes. My
gut sank with the settling dust, as I realized what I’d done.

“Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you—” Cora trailed off, as all eyes turned to the urn on the floor.

The ashes of the man I had always thought of as a father covered my feet. Everyone stared in shock, but not because the powdery remains of Eddie’s existence muted the shiny floor. Suddenly, Emmy’s whispers to the urn no longer seemed like the mindless ramblings of a distraught widow. There, within the pile of ash and bone fragments, a green light flickered from a small, black box.

“What do you mean, ‘a bug’? Like, a spider?” Nadia asked, forehead wrinkled in confusion.

“No, a transmitter-type-thing. The kind the FBI hide in phones and lampshades,” I said leaning my back against Lakin’s legs as I sat on the floor, knees hugged to my chest.

“Oh, a covert listening device,” she said knowledgeably.

“Well, if you want to be all technical about it,” I mumbled.

“I swear, Nadia, outside of the people who use them, you are the only person in the world who knows what those things are called.” Lyla shook her head. “Actually, no. Bryant probably knew that, too.”

There was still an edginess between Lyla and Nadia, even after explaining the situation with the Violet in New York. Nadia wasn’t one to easily get worked up, but once she’d gotten to that point, it took a long time for her grudges to dissipate.

“But Emmy didn’t know about it?” she questioned, ignoring Lyla’s snarky stab.

“She said she didn’t. Cora and Nixon freaked out, but when Lily looked in her thoughts, she said she was telling the truth.”

“So, when she was talking to the urn—”

“Yeah, she’s just...” I trailed off, coughing a bit on my words before I could continue, “…having trouble coping, I guess. Spreading her husband’s ashes out across the floor didn’t help, either.”

“That’s understandable,” Nadia said sympathetically. “William must have known she wouldn’t leave without Eddie.”

As much as I hated William and everything that he was putting us through, he was certainly clever; I had to give him that. Had I been in his position, I doubted that bugging Eddie’s ashes would have ever crossed my mind. It was so sneaky. It was so evil.

“So, what’s the plan, now?” Nadia questioned, weaving her arm through Bryant’s.

I didn’t know which was worse; that Lyla and Joseph were so close in real life, but couldn’t look into each other’s eyes, or that Nadia and Bryant weren’t anywhere near each other, outside of their dreams. I’d been impossibly lucky in finding Lakin on the night of my escape. I was delighted, and thankful, and a little concerned about how easy it had been.

“Lily thinks it’s too late to move everyone. She said William will probably already be waiting for us. We should be safe in the Eden, but we’re going to start preparing tomorrow,” I recited, staring blankly at the floor.

Everything had happened so quickly. I’d fallen asleep in the same reality as a few nights before, but I hadn’t known that the comfortable safety of that reality would be so fleeting. We should have been safe in the Eden, but if Lily really thought that, then the Oracles wouldn’t have set up a watch-rotation throughout the night. They wouldn’t have insisted that my generation learn as much as they can about controlling their abilities upon waking. They wouldn’t have told everyone to prepare for the worst.

With the sudden influx of bodies, and the limited space of Lily’s living-room floor, my generation had chosen to stay in the houses of our parents. If there was a chance that it would be our last night in the Eden, if there was a chance that it would be our last night at all, we wanted to fall asleep in the shadows of the pasts that had been stolen from us. We wanted to wake in the light of what should have been our homes. The closest Nadia could come to this was clouding over, momentarily, to see through Joseph. There was a very real chance that she would never see her home with her own eyes.

“I’m glad you’ve all found each other,” she said quietly, nestled in to Bryant’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Bryant said softly, lifting her chin so he could meet her eyes, “we’re going to find you, too.”

Everyone stared at the two in silent agreement, wishing so desperately that Nadia could have been with us when we woke. If something horrible was abou
t to happen—and we were all pretty sure that it was—we should have at least been together.

“Of course you will,” Nadia forced a smile past teary eyes, gazing longingly into the face that was so close to her own, yet so far.

Swelling in my throat, and pulling at my innards, it was a strange feeling—knowing the distance that kept Nadia the loneliest, the distance that stabbed so deeply at my brother’s heart, was also the distance that protected her. We didn’t know where Nadia was, but we knew that she wasn’t with us, and that was all that kept her safe.

I dangled my feet off the side of the bed, shoulders hunched over as I stared out the window with tired eyes. It was still early. Anyone who wasn’t on watch-duty was asleep, except for myself and the little black spider that was staring at me from the windowsill.
‘We’re in tune with nature,
’ Al had told me.
‘With all living things, if we allow ourselves to be.
’ With a deep breath, I slowly reached my finger tip to the window. Tiny legs tickled against my skin as the spider crawled up into my palm, settling itself happily into the crease of my life-line. As much as I feared spiders, I actually found myself fighting the urge to pet the tiny evil devil.

“You’re not so terrible, are you,” I whispered, staring into the mass of dark, shining eyes.

“Are you okay?”

I nearly catapulted the spider out of my hand at the unexpected sound of a husky voice. Somehow, I managed to place it back on the windowsill, before kneeling down so that my face was at the same level as the little bugger.

“Can you talk?” I whispered again, eyeing the spider cautiously.

“Angie, are you okay?” Bryant said from behind me, clearing his throat from the hoarseness of sleep.

Clasping my hand over my chest, I exhaled with relief, shaking my head at myself for thinking that I had inadvertently become fluent in the language of creepy-crawlies.

“Yeah,” I said, calming my racing heart as I returned to my seat on the bed.

Bryant crossed the room, sitting next to me in silence for a long while. There was much to feel, and little to say. But we were perfectly content just sitting next to each other in our parents’ house. We would never get the lost years of siblinghood back, but we could at least dwell in it for a few moments, on what might have been our last morning in the home we’d never known.

“Who’s this little guy?” he asked, gesturing toward the spider.

“Tiny evil devil,” I answered without any real thought.

“Well, hello, Ted,” he said, tapping his finger on the windowsill.

A breath of laughter escaped me as the spider stared at Bryant incredulously—at least, it seemed incredulous. I wasn’t well-studied in the emotions of arachnids.

“Ted,” I snorted, as the critt
er crawled onto his hand. “Our first family pet.”

Bryant smiled, but there was a sadness in his eyes.

“Do you remember them at all?” I asked, glancing back at the photo of our mother in the hallway. I could just see her face through the door.

“Sometimes, I have glimpses of memories… but I don’t know if they’re even real.”

“I know what you mean,” I said softly.

“We’re never going to find them, are we?” It wasn’t so much a question, as it was a statement of utter hopelessness.

I struggled to think of an adequate answer, but my mind failed me. I wanted to say that we would find our parents, but I had no way of knowing if that was the truth. It seemed improbable that
we
would be able to find them, when those who were far more experienced than us in every way hadn’t even come close. So, I said nothing. I wrapped a comforting arm around my brother’s shoulder, and we found the answer together, within the tear-filled embrace of family; Bryant, myself, and Ted.

“Angie, open
up!” Lyla shouted, sounding as if she were on the verge of breaking down the front door with hurried knocks.

‘It’s happening,
’ I thought.
‘This is it. This is the end. William is coming.
’ I rushed to the kitchen, Bryant close behind me, and swung open the door so quickly that I almost caught myself in the face.

“What?!”

“So…” Lyla began, almost reluctant to say what she’d been so impatient to say just moments before. “A thing happened.”

“What kind of thing?” I asked nervously.

Joseph stepped up on the porch behind her, and held out his hand. Sitting in his palm were two identical stones, blue-and-orange facets shimmering in the morning-light.

“You bonded?” I breathed. “But, your cuffs…”

Before I could finish my thought, he flipped his hand over. Neither the green, nor the red lights were glowing from the shackles on his wrists.

“I woke up, and the lights were off,” he explained, gazing upon Lyla’s face without restraint.

At a loss for words, I glanced around the Eden; a few stragglers had begun walking around the path. I wondered what Al would have done.

“Follow me,” I said, stepping between Lyla and Joseph as I headed off the porch.

“What’s that?” Joseph from somewhere behind me.

“This is Ted,” Bryant responded.

“Ted?”

“Ted.”

I rolled my eyes with a grin as I led them to a house not far from our own. Knocking on the door I had only been to once, I hoped that we wouldn’t be met by some sort of elderly-rage.

“What?” Curtis bellowed from inside, the sounds of sleep still heavy in his voice.

“Curtis? It’s Angie… Dawson,” I called, even though I knew there were no other Angie’s in the Eden.

“What do you want?” he questioned grouchily, poking his head through the door.

“We… we have some stones for you?”

Curtis scrutinized our little group with irritation, but eventually backed away to let us into the house. I was taken aback by the sight of the old man, wrapped up in a blanket as he shuffled across the floor like a fluffy, upright caterpillar. He jutted his hand out of the blanket-cocoon, demanding the stones as his eyelids sagged from sleep. Joseph reluctantly handed the gems over, eyeing me with uncertainty.

“Well, Alvin owes me a week of farming,” Curtis said, smirking as he rolled the stones over in his palm.

“What?” I asked.

“I bet him that the rest of your gen would make the Spera Lapis when they bonded,” he said contently, stiffly lowering himself to a chair at the kitchen table. His blanket-cocoon fell around him as he reached for his loupe.

I should have been overwhelmed by the sudden realization that my generation was truly different; we would be expected to make great changes in the world. We would be looked at as saviors. But, mostly, I was just angry that Al had bet against the notion.

“Calm down,” Curtis said, taking notice of my rigid demeanor, “it’s not that he didn’t think it was true. He just didn’t want you to have that burden on your shoulders.”

“How sweet of him,” I mumbled.

“What does this mean?” Lyla asked quietly, which was an uncommon volume for her voice.

“It means—” he said, glancing up at the others in the room for the first time. “Good god, girl, what’s wrong with your hair?”

Bryant, Joseph, and I nervously glanced at each other, then at Lyla, fully expecting her to burst out into a rant of how altering one’s appearance was a totally healthy form of self-expression, and shame on him for judging her choice of hair color. Instead, she glared, chewing the inside of her lip as she held back her words.

“There was an incident in
volving nuclear waste,” she said, tilting her head a bit in her sarcasm. “Will you just answer my question?”

“You’re just like my granddaughter,” Curtis chuckled, to my surprise. “It means you have the potential to do much greater things than any of the generations we have known. Whether you choose to act on that, of course, is completely up to you.”