by Sarah Noffke
I brought my eyes up to meet the therapist’s gaze. I’d made a great show of putting real emotions on my face. My bottom lip quivered a bit. My eyes were filled to the brim with fake tears. And when I opened my mouth an actual croak happened out. “It’s my sister, Lyza,” I wailed. “She abuses me. She abuses me badly,” I sang.
“Your older sister, Lyza?” Dr. Simon said, sitting forward, almost knocking the pad off his thin lap.
“That’s right,” I said, furiously nodding my head. “The one due to graduate early this year and with an acceptance to Oxford. That one. But what you don’t know is she does things to me,” I said, putting a look of shameful hurt on my face.
“Don’t you worry, Ren,” Dr. Simon said, leaning forward, placing a hand on my shaking arm. “We won’t let her hurt you any longer.”
Truth be told, Lyza only hurt me with dirty remarks and cold stares. But Lyza had told our mother since she was thirteen that our mum was no better than a servant in our house. She had despised our mum for being a Middling and I in turn despised Lyza. And now I was going to make her pay for every hurtful thing she did to our mum. See, the thing is, when Ren gets in trouble, so do other people.
I allowed the doctor’s hand to linger on my forearm. Now was probably not the time to tell this homosexual that I didn’t quite enjoy his touch, but definitely go and cart my sister away for abusing her little brother. I grabbed one more thought out of the doctor’s head before he slipped his hand away. That one thought was enough for me to know that the punishment Dr. Simon saw for Lyza would fit the bill until I could up the ante.
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Sneak Peek of Awoken (The Lucidites Series, #1)
“You’re late,” Ren sneers, his British accent making the offense sound atrocious. “I should have guessed. Come on already, follow me.”
I turn back to Aiden, searching for a way out. He shrugs, only half looking at me.
I slide off the table and push my toes forward, but my body is sluggish and doesn’t readily respond to the commands from my brain. It takes an eternity to reach the door. Ren has already bolted down the outer corridor and is standing looking at me with exaggerated contempt. Again I’ve pissed him off; maybe I’ve actually done something this time or it’s just my very nature of breathing that’s setting him off. Hard to tell.
I turn back at the threshold. Aiden is typing away at a computer station. He looks busy. Focused.
“Hey,” I call to him, “thanks for saving my life and all.”
He’s still typing on his computer, engrossed in whatever he’s working on. I turn and head toward Ren. A few steps down the corridor I hear Aiden sing, “Just doing my job.”
Ren shoots down a narrow silver hallway. Since I’ve just dislodged a gallon of water from my lungs it’s difficult to keep up. I hardly have time to take in the corridor we’re moving through. The walls and ceiling are brushed stainless steel. The floor is a strange aquamarine, with a shimmering effervescence.
“Where are we going?” I pant. “Can you slow down?”
“’Fraid not, Roya. I’m trying to get you to orientation before it’s over.” He gives me a sideways glance. “You still mad at me for scratching you at our last meeting?”
“Scratching me? You stabbed me with a filthy pocket knife.” I pull up my sleeve to show the fresh gash which is destined for infection. Who knows where that knife has been or how many other people he’s cut with it?
“Blimey, stop being so dramatic. All I did was give you what you asked for.”
“I asked for proof that I was dream traveling, not an injury,” I seethe.
“But you knew it was real when you awoke, didn’t you?” he leers.
We’re still hurrying through the hallway when a stabbing pain splinters through my side. I stop and double over. “Look, I’m sorry if I’m going to be late to some orientation. I’ve got to rest for a second,” I say between wheezing attempts to breathe. We’ve already walked a long distance. How big is this place?
“I don’t think you’ll want be tardy to orientation, that’s all I’m saying,” Ren says, checking his watch.
I wrap the blanket tighter around my shoulders. My frustration rises to the surface and erupts. “I’m the challenger,” I argue, pointing at myself. “I’ve decided to risk my life for this whole mess. I think I can be a tad late to this stupid orientation.”
Ren bites his lip, a look of mischief in his green eyes. “Yes, Challenger, you’re right.” He holds up his hands as if surrendering. “Your call. I’m just trying to help.”
“Yeah, right.” I sigh and start walking forward again, but this time at my own slower pace.
Ren lets me walk off a few steps before ambling up next to me. “Let me guess, you’re probably also peeved that I did that whole projection business on you. Is that right?”
“You think?” I first met Ren while I was dream traveling. Trey had arranged the meeting. However, I got lost in a strange apartment building in London. Ren sent a projection of my cat to steer me in the right direction. He knew I’d follow that cat, not just because he was mine, but because he’d recently been murdered—by Zhuang.
The projection of my dead cat led me to a room where I found Ren, looking bored and irritated. “Finally,” he said, when I tentatively made my way into the darkened room. “Oh stop being so cautious. I’m not going to bite you,” he said flashing an evil grin at me. “Name’s Ren. I’m the Head Strategist for the Lucidites. Trey sent me to fill in some of your missing gaps. Apparently, you’re still in need of convincing.” He slid his hand into his trouser pocket and retrieved a silver pocket knife. Without taking his eyes off me he opened the blade and began cleaning his nails. “Here’s how it’s going to go. You currently don’t think the dream travel with Trey last night was real. You’ve probably spent most the day explaining the whole thing away. Now you’re here with me and the doubt is starting to recede and give way to belief, but you’re not there yet. I’m going to fill your consciousness with enough information and by the time we finish our little chat you’re going to be convinced this whole thing is real.” Ren looked down at his nails, admiring them. “’Cause it is.”
“So this,” I made a broad motion, “this is all real? It isn’t a dream?”
“The furniture is real, this place is real, I’m real, and you’re really, really here with me right now. So to answer your question, yes.”
I nodded and chewed on my lip.
“Well, the cat,” Ren said, “he actually wasn’t real. He was a projection.”
Letting the memory wash away I stomp beside Ren through the strange hallway of the Institute. “Did you really have to use my deceased cat like that when we first met?” I say.
Ren turns a corner and I have no choice but to follow him. “Using your dead pet was the easiest way to lead you to me,” he says.
“Hmm,” I muse. “Because finding me like a normal human being would be too difficult?” I lose my breath as our pace quickens gradually. “And my cat wasn’t dead before all this mess.”
“And thanks to us, you aren’t resting with it.” He stops abruptly and turns to me, swiping a finger over his lips. “Shame too, ’cause you’d fit so nicely in a shoe box or whatever you bury inconsequential pests in these days.”
I bunch up my nose as though the air smells rancid.
“By the way.” He yawns loudly and points his head to the door beside him. “You’re in there.” His hand hovers over a button to the right of the door. “Oh, and one quick, tiny thing Shuman forgot to mention.”
I stop and stare into his cold eyes with sudden dread.
“You aren’t exactly the challenger.” He puts air quotes on the last two words. “You’re more or less on the list of potential challengers. For some strange reason she omitted this part. Silly girl.”
“What?!” Horror rips through me. “How many other people are on this list?”
Ren taps the button, shoving me in
to a crowded auditorium. “Only one way to find out, luv.” He steps back and the door shuts.
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Sneak Peek of Defects (The Reverians Series, #1)
“You called for me, Mother?” I say, standing up tall, chin held high.
She nods, stands from the Victorian couch in the sitting room, and waves her hand in a presenting manner at the man standing next to her. He’s a stranger. It is rare to find one of those in Austin Valley. “Yes, I’d like you to meet who President Vider hired to do skills evaluations on all Defects.” The man beside her has spiky red hair, a similar shade as my mother’s. He looks to be in his mid-forties, and by the style of his dark green suit, he definitely isn’t a Reverian. Another clue is that he has a pointy red goatee and all Dream Traveler Reverians are required to be clean shaven.
“Name’s Ren,” he says, not extending a hand to me.
“Hello,” I say with a small curtsy. “Nice to meet you. I’m Em.”
“Oh, so you didn’t name her after Mummy,” he says to my mother, his words coated in a British accent.
She rolls her eyes. A strange gesture for her to do to someone who isn’t one of her children. “Shut up, Ren. You know I’d never do something so sentimental and downright repulsive.”
“No, Lyza, you’d have to have a heart to do that, and we both know you don’t,” he says to my mother, a smug look on his face.
“A heart pumps blood. I obviously have one of those,” she says, smoothing back a strand of hair into her tight bun. “What I don’t have is this useless capacity for caring.”
“Always the literal one, aren’t you?” Ren says.
“This man, Ren, happens to also be my brother,” my mother says, not hiding the disappointment in her voice.
“Happens?” he says, actually looking amused. “Like it’s one big happenstance that we were born from the same parents?”
“What I mean is that the person who was hired by the President just happens to be related to me,” my mother says, cinching her arms across her chest.
I didn’t know my mother had a brother. Never met her parents. She doesn’t talk to us about them. About anything really. “Why does he have an accent and you don’t?” I finally say, breaking the staring contest between them.
Mother sighs loudly. “Because my brother doesn’t subscribe to the fact that accents lead to labeling and the best way to gain advantage is to have nothing marking you with where you’re from,” she says with her typical perfect diction.
“So we’re British?” I ask, confused.
“No, we are Reverians.”
A loud, thick yawn echoes from Ren. “Although this family reunion is incredibly touching, can we get to the reason I’m here, which isn’t to exchange stories of what we’ve been doing for the last twenty years?”
I step forward, studying the man in front of me. Disbelief and curiosity take turns overwhelming my thoughts. “Wait, you’re my uncle?”
“Don’t call me that,” Ren says, looking disgusted. “And yes, technically I am. I don’t send Christmas presents, don’t care about your grades, and I don’t give piggyback rides.”
“We don’t celebrate Christmas,” is all I say. I’d heard about this weird tradition from a new Middling who had started working at the Agricultural Center.
“No, I remember now my dear sister belongs to the Reverians’ religion, which is based on myths that are likened to unicorns. Do yourself a favor, luv, and pick up a world religion book. It will blow your mind. Although, come to think about it, diverse texts are probably banned here,” Ren says.
My mother throws a seething glance at her brother. “I see you haven’t changed a bit, have you, Ren?”
“Oh yes, I’m just as delightful as ever,” he says.
“Which is why you’re still alone, hopping from job to job, society to society, is that right?” my mother says.
“Being alone is a choice, dear Lyza. Some of us don’t need the money and prestige of a significant other. Some of us make our own way in the world, but you wouldn’t know about that, would you? How long has it been since you ventured out of this valley? Really ventured out, on your own, not some organized dream travel field trip managed and supervised by the Reverians?”
“I still fail to see why President Vider hired you for this job,” she says, her anger flaring in every word. I’ve hardly ever seen her this flustered, my mother, the queen of pretense.
“It’s simple, little Lyzie. I’m the best. And he knows it.”
“Don’t. Call. Me. That,” she says, her voice an octave under yelling.
“Oh, you don’t love my little nickname for you anymore, do you?”
“You know I never liked it,” she says, her expression pinched.
“I most likely won’t remember your preferences on the name calling, so don’t be offended when I call you it again. Or do. Doesn’t really matter to me,” Ren says, a hint of pleasure in his voice.
“Oh, just do what you were brought here for,” my mother says, sweeping past me, pulling the double doors closed behind her.
I turn and look at Ren directly. Menacing isn’t exactly the right word for him. He’s that, but he’s also thoughtful in his approach. Theatrical. And he does something most of the people I know don’t: he says exactly what he wants.
He eyes me like I’m a dirty puddle he’s trying to figure out how to cross. “Oh, why can’t I get away from teenagers? I bloody hate teenagers.”
“Well, I’m mature for my age,” I say.
“That makes one of us. So you’re one of the Defects. Interesting thing that’s happened in this valley. Note to self, don’t drink the water here,” he says.
“Do you think you can help us? That’s why you’re here, right?”
He takes a seat in the armchair and indicates I should take a seat on the couch opposite him. When I’m settled he gives me something that almost classifies as a smile. “No, I’m not here to help you get your gift. I’m here to assess you and give a report. What valuable information I provide may or may not help. Who knows, really?”
I deflate with a sigh. “Well, when you say this is happening in this valley, do you mean it isn’t happening elsewhere?”
A small smile quirks up the corner of his mouth. “As sheltered as your mother, aren’t you, poor dear?”
I only stare back at him, his dark green eyes like that of St. Augustine grass.
“No,” he finally says. “This epidemic appears to be confined to this valley, as far as I can tell.”
“Are you religious?”
“What an abrupt and personal question,” he says, shaking his head at me.
“Well, you don’t have to answer it,” I say, feeling sudden embarrassment burn my insides.
“Of course I don’t.”
“Do you think the gods are punishing us?”
“To be quite honest, I don’t think the gods or God or any other holy entity gives two cents about us,” he says.
“You’re the angry type, aren’t you?”
“You’re the honest type, aren’t you?”
I shrug.
“All righty, missy, let’s get down to business. Here’s how this is going to work. I’m going to ask you a few questions. Got it?”
I nod.
“Oh good, it gives brief responses. That will help.” Ren leans back, crosses his ankle over his knee, and stares at the ceiling casually. “Do you hear voices?” he asks.
“No.”
“Do you see things which aren’t real?” he asks.
“No.”
“Get flashes?”
“No.”
“Control people with your mind?”
“No,” I say again.
“Have objects moved mysteriously around you?”
“No.”
“You really aren’t much fun at all, are you?” he says.
I squint at him. “I’m loads of fun.”
“Yeah, yeah.
I’m sure you think so.”
I shake my head at him. I’ve never met someone with his audacity.
“All right, you failed that phase of testing and have graduated to the next loser round,” he says.
“I’m not a loser.”
“No, no, of course you’re not,” he says dismissively. He slips a device the size of the palm of his hand out of his inside jacket pocket. With a switch the device makes a low buzz.
“What’s that?”
“A frequency recorder. It’s science.” He says it like it’s a dirty thing. “And it’s an upgraded model so I’m probably getting all sorts of radiation.”
“Why are you using it then?”
“Well, the daft scientist who gave it to me is probably right that it will make the assessments I have to do a whole lot easier.” He pauses and only stares at me for a few seconds, an intensity in his eyes. “Did you get that message I just sent you?”
“What?” I say, dumbfounded.
“The telepathic message I just sent you. Did you hear it in your head?”
“No.”
Ren slips a gold ring off his finger. It’s clunky. Lays it on the table next to him. “Can you move that with your mind?” he asks, his voice flat.
