Awoken (The Lucidites Book 1)

by Sarah Noffke

Another long pause. “I’ve got nothing,” Samara says, disappointed.

  “I’m getting something, but it’s confusing,” George says after a few seconds. “It feels like he’s at Graceland in Memphis.”

  “Great,” I say, trying to concentrate.

  “But,” George adds, “there’s an energy to the place. If I’m reading this right then Elvis is there.”

  “Oh, shit.” I sigh. Tracking him in the past is complicated and deviates from the plan. “What’s the date?’

  “That I don’t know,” George admits after a pause.

  Damn it! I’ve lost him. Frustration sits at the back of my head, making me feel heavy. I can’t travel into the past at random to find Zhuang. I need to know specifically, down to the second, where he is. I fidget, hoping a brilliant idea will manifest in my foggy head. “Come on, guys,” I urge. “I need something.”

  Silence follows.

  “Samara?!” I yelp. “You were supposed to have a hold on him by now.”

  “I’m trying,” she whimpers. “He’s got me blocked. I keep trying to find a back door that he doesn’t have locked, but he’s thorough.”

  “I’d expect no less,” Trent says.

  “Just pick a random date in the past and travel,” Joseph suggests.

  “What?” I say. “Are you mad?”

  “Yes,” he chirps in his usual light tone. “But that’s beside the point.”

  “Joseph, I can’t just randomly travel to find Zhuang. There’s like a one in a million chance I’d pick the right day and time,” I explain.

  “Right!” he says triumphantly, like he’s given a sufficient rebuttal.

  I shake my head, disappointed. Kind of surprised I failed so fast. I’ve lost Zhuang and the one chance anyone has had in centuries to destroy him.

  “Stark, would you stop the self-loathing for a second?” Joseph says. I picture him wearing his typical sideways smile. “It was forecast that the Lucidites’ challenger and Zhuang would battle today, right? What did Trey call it, ‘a static moment in time’? He can’t escape it and unfortunately, as the challenger, neither can you. If that’s correct then no matter where you go you’ll run into him. It’s destiny,” he says simply, like giving directions to a store down the road.

  “You know, for once ol’ Joe’s actually making sense,” Trent says.

  “I’m gonna go ahead and take that as a compliment,” Joseph says, a smile in his voice.

  “By all means,” Trent encourages.

  “All right,” I finally say. “I guess this is worth a shot.” I have nothing to lose. “Wish me luck.” I close my eyes and clear my mind. The lens of my mind goes blank. I push my consciousness back, further and further into the past. Like skimming through a book and randomly stopping on a page, I do this with the points of time. When the urge strikes I stop, crease back the page of this slot in history, and tunnel through the grayness.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  August 15, 1977, 10 p.m.

  A two-story house stands in front of me at the other end of a grassy lawn. Light from inside illuminates the house, casting it in a jubilant glow. Crickets chirp in the distance, a sound I once loved but now prickles my skin with irritation.

  A sensation grows until it radiates up my spine and tickles the back of my neck. I’m being watched. I spin around, sweeping my eyes across the grounds, searching for Zhuang. Darkness masks everything like a painter’s cloth. Squinting through the blackness I wait for my eyes to adjust and listen to my pulse race in my head.

  I back toward the entry of the house. A shadow lurches beside me. With a jolt I stagger until I back into a bench flanked by regal lions. Another shadow, maybe a different one, flickers in the distance. Just as I realize that Zhuang wouldn’t cast a shadow, I hear a hissing cackle behind me. As I wheel around, my eyes seize upon a figure sitting on an opposite bench.

  “It’s true then.” I wheeze, suddenly out of breath. “We can’t escape each other.”

  Through the darkness he shows jagged teeth as he smiles crookedly. “No, it’s in fact, not true,” Zhuang counters. The side of his robes where I speared him has already dried, leaving a dark stain.

  “What?” I sputter. “But I found you. Just now. At this specific point in time.”

  “Wrong.” His voice is a hush among the orchestra of crickets. “I found you.”

  “No, that’s not true,” I argue. “You were at Graceland in the past. I found you.”

  “Yes, I was, but not at this date and time. When I was ready, I found you, little girl.”

  Reflexively I back away.

  “And what an interesting date you picked.” He sneers.

  George’s voice fills my ear. “He’s feeling playful and enjoying the game. He doesn’t want to kill you yet, which is good, but…there’s something really dark he wants. I can’t pin it down.”

  “Thanks,” I say, taking in his words and also the comfort his voice provides.

  “The King should be in that house sleeping right now,” Zhuang says sharply.

  The foreboding night air creates pockets in my reasoning, making it impossible for me to strategize. My eyes shift over the grounds, looking for an opportunity. I need to run, to travel, to get him to follow me, but the timing has to be perfect.

  “Do you know why Elvis can’t sleep?” Zhuang asks, looking amused.

  “He hasn’t taken his meds yet?” I say, scanning the estate.

  Half a smirk registers on his face. “Every time he closes his eyes he has nightmares.”

  I have to figure out a plan, but unfortunately nothing has magically come to me. “Maybe he should stop staying up watching scary movies.”

  “We both know nightmares don’t come from scary movies,” Zhuang says without hesitation. A brilliant bolt of lightning streaks the sky, casting an electric glow on everything. “I create nightmares!” Zhuang growls. Then the thunder rains through the air.

  The sound is deafening, as if the lightning has struck me in the temples. I clap my hands to my ears, willing the ringing to disappear as quickly as it erupted. Through my hands, through the ringing in my head, I hear Zhuang’s words as his lips move. “Very soon those nightmares will kill the King.”

  I grip my head, pushing away the ache in my ears. I can’t help Elvis, and even if I could, I can’t change the past. Lucidites can observe, but we’re not allowed to change events that have already taken place. My job is to secure the future.

  “I do love a good cat-and-mouse game,” he almost sings in his salient tone. “But I’m tired of being the cat. Your turn.” And he’s gone.

  Without hesitating I dive forward to the place Zhuang had been seconds prior.

  “NO!” Joseph shouts in my ear. “It could be a trick!”

  “Confirmed,” George says grudgingly.

  “Doesn’t matter, I can’t lose him,” I say. “And I’m ready to kill that son-of-a-bitch.”

  The complaints that follow are drowned out by my sheer focus as I step into Zhuang’s ripple. His tracers are like flecks of ash drifting in a breeze. Each grasp I make for the tiny bits of consciousness pushes it further away. Stay still, I urge the tracers and myself. For a second it feels impossible to do nothing, knowing the ripple will dissolve at any moment, but it’s what my instinct advises. Nothing happens. Still I remain fixed on the ripple. Something invisible settles on top of me like dew on a blade of grass. I seize it before it has a chance to evaporate and I fall at once, blindly.

  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 et
ches 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

  The 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.