Shine: Season One (Shine Season Book 1)

by William Bernhardt

  “‘They see no proof.

  “‘Yet I am the proof in front of their very eyes. I have shown them documentation, pictures, family records, even my own birth certificate.

  “‘These things can be forged, they say.

  “‘My search for another suitable test subject continues’.”

  Memphis paused, staring with knitted eyebrows at the journal. I didn’t know what to say as he slowly turned the pages. He stopped at a page near the back, and then continued reading.

  “‘Tomorrow will be my 181st birthday. My life has been an unusual one, to put it lightly. Since a very young age, a time I can hardly remember, science has been my only priority. I have put off family, friends, and those human relationships that might have brought me joy, in order to study a greater good—the duration of the human lifespan.

  “‘And so it is ironic that my life’s work should be devoted to the study of human life, when I myself have never felt the pleasure of it.

  “‘It is irony still, that I have found that purpose in the one person whose blood is a suitable match for my experiments. Adelaide goes willingly to the slaughter, though I fear that her willingness will be my undoing’.”

  “Is he talking about your mother?” I asked.

  “I think so.”

  “But Miss Angel said her name was Joissine.”

  “Her name was Joissine Adelaide. She must’ve gone by different names.”

  Memphis tapped his foot in a nervous gesture, as if he were mulling over what he’d read.

  “Miss Angel said he experimented on your mother,” I said. “That he experimented on you. It’s no wonder she left him after that.”

  “Yes,” Memphis answered. “But she must still be alive. Where is she now?”

  “Keep reading,” I said. “If we find her, maybe we’ll find your father.”

  He flipped to the last entry. He pointed to the date. “Twenty years ago. Right after I was born.”

  I nodded. “What does it say?”

  “‘The longest day of my life,’” Memphis read. “‘Addie has gone. She will not be reasonable. The fetus would have died had I not injected it, yet she feels I have harmed it. Harmed it! I have done no such thing. If not for my efforts, our son would never have been born. She will not let me near the child. She has signed the papers with the adoption agency, afraid that I will harm the child more if left to my own devices.

  “‘My only conclusion is that the Sarracenia injections have driven her to madness. If she has gone mad, then what has become of me? Am I insane and unaware of it? If I am, how am I ever to know? Without my Addie, I fear my mind will escape to the only place it cannot be harmed.

  ““My research will continue without her. Until I find one whose blood is suitable for my experiments, I will never be able to duplicate the Sarracenia solution. Can such a source of blood ever be found? I fear I may never be successful. Until science learns what I have, the world will be forever doomed to live and die, and never know the truth about the frailties of our own blood.

  “‘My Addie’s blood, I fear, will not support the solution for as long as I have. If I do not find a new source soon, her blood will kill her.

  “‘I will return to the place I found her. The only place I have ever lived. The only place my experiments can continue.

  “‘I will return to Green Wood Pointe’.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Green Wood Pointe.” I shivered as I stared at the words written on the page. I’d felt as if something strange was going on at that place. Now I knew why. It was James Lavalle’s lab. He’d discovered that Shine blood may hold the key to perfecting his experiments, and so he’d disguised the place as a Shine rehab, getting funding from unsuspecting families trying to help their daughters.

  That’s why he was after me. They’d taken my blood while I was there. It must’ve had the right components he needed to continue his tests—to create the solution that was inside Memphis’s heart.

  My stomach sickened as the truth sank in.

  Lavalle would never give up until he got my blood.

  “Now we know why he needs you so much,” Memphis said.

  I nodded, not sure I could speak.

  “He’s no ghost. He’s a freak of nature.” He stared at his hands. “And I am too.”

  “No,” I said. “You may share the same blood, but you’re nothing like him.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “You spent two years trying to rescue Alexa. You kept me safe when you didn’t have to. You could’ve become like him but you didn’t. Your actions make you who are. Not your blood.”

  His shoulders relaxed. I hoped he believed what I knew. “At least we know where he is,” Memphis said. “We have to go back to Green Wood Pointe.”

  I nodded, though everything inside screamed for me to stay away from that place.

  “We’ll leave tomorrow, that is, if you’re okay.”

  “Me?” I asked. “You’re the one who got shot.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes. Thanks to you.”

  I turned away. I wished he understood how little I had to do with his healing. But I didn’t want to bring it up again. His father’s experiment had healed him. I wasn’t sure how comfortable he felt with it.

  “We have to go back. Lavalle has to be stopped. He hurt my mother. He killed Alexa,” Memphis said. “For what?”

  “I don’t think he cares. I don’t think he’s human anymore.”

  The antique clock chimed from atop the mantel. He looked up at the clock. Alexa’s urn sat beside it. “I think he’s already dead. He destroyed the part of himself that made him human. But it wasn’t only him.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Alexa had become like him, too.”

  I stared at him, not sure why, after everything we’d just learned, he’d decided to bring up the subject of his fiancée’s death.

  “The SSS were involved in her capture. They’d worked with the Revens to help them find her. Then they brought her to a facility. She was there two months when I was able to visit her.” His voice drifted, as if his mind had entered another time. “She was dead inside. I don’t know how to describe it—but the part of Alexa that I’d fallen in love with—was gone. She was an empty shell.

  “Reverend Trent and the SSS had allowed the experiments. Awful experiments. Worse than anything my father had done. They were sick, depraved animals. I thought that if I rescued her, if I brought her back here, maybe she would remember. Maybe she would remember us…” His voice grew unsteady. He stared at his hands. It took several minutes before he spoke again.

  “When I saw her that night in Arizona, standing there with the bloody knife in her hands, when she looked at me—she didn’t know me. I knew then that I would never be able to bring her back. Her mind was gone. My father killed her, but the truth is, she was already dead. I’ve been mourning her death for longer than a week. I’ve mourned for two years.”

  What could I say? To be honest, I felt a little stunned. I had a feeling that he’d never shared with anyone what he’d shared with me. “I’m sorry,” I finally answered.

  He nodded, then blew out a breath of air, as if trying to understand his emotions. “We were young when we met. Both of us fifteen and a half. Thought we knew everything. Thought it would be cool to get these tattoos.” His fingers trailed down the ink lining his arms. “If only we’d known how prophetic these stupid poems would become.”

  I decided it was best to just let him talk. He’d never opened up this much. I didn’t want to stop him.

  “I thought I’d never loved someone as much as I loved her. I thought that if I ever lost her, there wouldn’t be anything left of me.”

  I wasn’t sure where he was going with this.

  “I know now,” he said. “I was wrong. I loved her. But our love was an infatuation. It wasn’t like…”

  “Like what?” I asked, my voice sounding softer than I’d intended.

&n
bsp; “Like what we have,” he answered. When he looked at me, I didn’t flinch from his gaze. His eyes. For so long, I’d found them dangerous, secretive. He didn’t look that way now. For the first time in forever, I saw the real Memphis Stone.

  He was kind, protective. He would give his life to keep his loved ones safe.

  Miss Angel’s words came to me. He loves you. I hadn’t believed her then. But could it be true? He leaned closer. The steady drumming of his heart came to me, the sound pulled me closer, as if it controlled me. His hand brushed my knee. Tingles shot from my toes to the top of my head.

  If being this close to him made me feel this way, what would kissing him feel like? I had to know. If I died right now, my biggest regret would be not kissing him.

  He swept a strand of hair away from my face. His fingertips brushed my neck. My stomach had never knotted so badly, the knots were triple-knotting. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think of anything except him. He leaned close, his breath on my cheek.

  My phone rang. Dad’s ringtone. I debated not answering the phone. But I hadn’t spoken with my dad in almost a month. Whatever he had to say, it had better be important. Life or death important.

  I grabbed it out of my pocket. Memphis looked away. Whatever we’d shared was gone now. The timing my dad had.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “June-bug,” Daddy breathed.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “You’re okay?”

  I glanced at Memphis. He stood and walked to the kitchen. My stomach sank. “Yeah, I’m okay. I guess.”

  “Good. That’s good.”

  Dad spoke with a casual tone, which made me realize that something was wrong. He was trying to smooth over bad news. It came with the politician’s training. “What’s up?” I asked.

  “It’s…Junie…I don’t know how to say this.” His voice wavered. Alarm bells went off in my head. For Dad to be at a loss for words meant something was bad. Really bad.

  “Katelyn?” My worst fear had come true. My heart skipped a beat.

  “She’s in the hospital. She’s comfortable. The doctors are doing everything they can. But…”

  Silence filled the line. “But what?” I whispered.

  “The cancer is advancing more than they expected. At this point, there’s not much they can do. They’ve given her a week to live. I’m so sorry.”

  I clenched my hand into a fist, pressing it into my lap until my fingernails pierced through my skin. Tears made my eyes blurry. Katelyn. Why her? Why now?

  “I’ve sent a choppercar to pick you up. It will be there tomorrow morning. I’ve given them instructions to meet you at the helipad at the airport. They’re to bring you straight home, and from there we’ll go to the hospital. She’s been asking for you.”

  “Okay.” I barely managed to make my voice work.

  “We’ll see you soon, June-bug.”

  “Um-hmm.”

  He hung up. I managed to push the end button and fumbled the phone back into my pocket.

  How could this be happening? She’d looked fine when I saw her last. Why had I left her? I should have never left her. I was out here in New Orleans while she was home, dying?

  But she’d wanted me to go. She’d told me to do it.

  I rubbed my eyes, feeling the tears trying to break free. I pushed them back. She wasn’t dead yet. Maybe there was still time. Maybe the doctors hadn’t tried everything. Maybe Dad was exaggerating.

  I stood and made it to the stairs, praying Memphis would ignore me.

  “Would you like to talk—”

  “No,” I cut him off. I couldn’t talk. Not to him. Not to anyone. I should have never left her.

  Katelyn, please be okay.

  I found my way to my bed. I almost lost it when I passed Naomi’s room, her stuff still sitting out, as if she’d never left.

  How did people deal with this kind of grief?

  I crawled under the covers with my clothes on, praying that sleep came quickly. I couldn’t deal with my own thoughts.

  Sleep never came. My brain wouldn’t be quiet. Why couldn’t I just shut off my feelings?

  The moon shone bright through the curtains when I finally gave up. I glanced at the clock. A little past midnight.

  My stomach hurt, as if someone had pulled out all my intestines and replaced them with lead. My heart weighed heavy in my chest.

  I kept picturing my sister sitting on her balcony. She was reading her book of fairy tales. Rapunzel. Her favorite story. She must’ve read it a hundred times.

  I remembered how she’d traced her finger over the picture of Rapunzel’s long strands of hair, Katelyn’s bald head reflected in the city’s glow.

  I missed her.

  I would give anything to make her better. I would trade my own life to make her better.

  The tears wanted to break through. I couldn’t let them. I needed a distraction, something to get my mind off my misery.

  I crawled out of bed and made my way downstairs. I tiptoed past Memphis’s room. Waking him would bring questions, and I didn’t want to answer questions.

  We’d shared something together. For a brief moment, I thought maybe he had feelings for me, the same kind I felt for him. That moment seemed so distant now, overshadowed by my sister’s impending death.

  I made it to the kitchen. I stood by the sink and stared out the window. The moon rose over the back garden, casting its glow over the wrought iron table, the ivy vines, making the yellow jasmines turn silver.

  Maybe the night air would help me sort out my thoughts. I crept to the door and opened it a crack. I stepped outside. A gentle gust of air blew past, bringing with it the scent of jasmine.

  “You okay?”

  I jumped at the sound of Memphis’s voice. He sat on the porch swing, eyes focused straight ahead. I’d thought he was inside. He would never cease to surprise me.

  “What are you doing out here?” I asked.

  “Couldn’t sleep. Same thing as you, I guess.”

  I crossed my arms. I’d wanted to avoid him.

  “Would you like to talk about it?” he asked.

  “Not really.”

  “You should.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  I stared out over the garden, debating on whether I should go back inside. Maybe my luck would change and I’d fall asleep, though that seemed unlikely.

  The swing’s hinges squeaked as he rocked back and forth, a sound that mimicked his heart. The sound, as it seemed to do lately, drew me to him. I found myself sitting beside him, though I wasn’t sure how I’d gotten there.

  I sat with my hands in my lap, feeling cold and exposed. The sound of birdsong came from the balcony next door. I searched out the sound and found an antique birdcage on the neighbor’s porch.

  Under the bright moonlight, I made out a small brown bird sitting on the perch. I didn’t recognize the species.

  “Nightingale,” Memphis said.

  It sang with a rich, deep sound, unlike anything I’d heard before. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Have you heard the story of the nightingale?”

  “I guess not.”

  “Would you like to hear it?”

  I sighed, wondering if I’d made the wrong decision in staying out here. But maybe his story would get my mind off my problems. “Sure,” I answered.

  “It’s a story my mom told me when I was little. I can’t tell it as well as she did, but I’ll try.”

  I nodded.

  “The story starts in China. The Emperor hears the song of the nightingale and decides it’s the most beautiful sound in the world. He orders one brought to his court. He keeps it in captivity for awhile, but eventually he feels sorry for it. He releases the nightingale and replaces it with a mechanical bird. After time, the mechanical bird breaks down.

  “Time passes. The emperor becomes sick. Soon the nightingale hears of the emperor’s illness. What the emperor doesn’t realize is that by releasing the nightingale, he’s created a
loyal friend, one who feels indebted to him for his kindness. The bird returns to find the emperor very sick and almost dead. Death stands over the emperor. He’s come to the emperor, ready to take him, when the nightingale begins to sing. Death is so moved by the song that he can’t kill the emperor. He leaves because of the nightingale and the emperor lives.”

  “It’s a nice story.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  “I don’t think you should give up hope,” he said after a pause.

  I stared at my hands. “I’m not sure I believe in hope anymore.”

  “There’s always hope. Even after you’ve lost everyone you love, even after you think there isn’t any happiness left in the world. There’s always hope. Take your sister, for example, she isn’t dead yet.”

  “But the doctors—”

  “Doesn’t matter. She isn’t dead yet. Don’t mourn her until you have someone to mourn.”

  He said it so bluntly. I wanted to take the defensive, but what if he was right?

  “You said before that she’s a fighter. She won’t give up. So you shouldn’t.”

  I nodded. He was trying to help me feel hopeful. But should I? I shivered despite the warm air. Goosebumps prickled my skin. “What if she…passes?” I had trouble saying the word. “Then what? I would’ve felt hopeful for nothing. I don’t want to give up on her, it’s just—sometimes it’s better to face the truth.”

  “Maybe, but think of it this way—what if she lives? What if in the future you look back and realize that you’ve wasted all your emotions on something that never happened. She may die, yes. But she may get better. All I’m saying is—you don’t know what will happen. Don’t give up yet.”

  He was right.

  His words finally hit me.

  He was right.

  I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. He wrapped his arm around me, his warmth spread through me. I leaned against his shoulder. The tears finally broke free. I couldn’t hold them back any longer.

  I didn’t want to cry in front of him, but holding in my emotions had become impossible. He held me to his chest. The sound of his heart filled my ears. I’d always heard it from a distance, letting my Shine enhance my hearing and bring the sound to me.