Tainted Energy (The Energy Series Book 1)

by Lynn Vroman

  “What’d you do to Belva?” So much for subtlety.

  She narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t do anything to her.”

  “Wilma, she shit herself in class today, right after lunch.” I switched gears, deciding against asking anything too crazy. “Did you put something in her food?”

  She shook her head as worry skidded across her face. “I didn’t do anything to that girl, though she deserved more than a little humiliation. Maybe it’s God’s way of telling her to stop being a dipshit.”

  I shifted my calculus book and ran a hand through my hair, tangled and falling out of the braid. The inquisition needed to stop before another person joined the Lena-is-nuts group. “Listen, don’t get involved in…stuff. She’ll just come at me worse.” I looked over her head at the teachers rushing out of the jungle for the day. “Empirical evidence has proven that theory.”

  Her anger came out of nowhere, surprising me. “Why don’t you kick her ass? You would’ve before…” She bit her bottom lip, her blue eyes flashing fire, and stomped toward her car. Funny, her limp didn’t show up this time.

  I followed. “Before? Before what?”

  She didn’t elaborate, just kept going until she reached her car, shoving her body into the driver’s seat.

  “Wilma? What the hell?”

  She rolled down the window and started the engine. “You know how hard it is to watch everyone stomp all over you and not be able to do a goddamn thing about it?”

  What? “I’ve never asked you to do anything, have I?”

  Wilma smacked the steering wheel with a frustrated yell, causing some of the teachers to glance our way. “No, Lena, you haven’t. You never have, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel like a total ass for sitting back and watching you deal with things you don’t deserve.”

  I examined my hands, my cheeks growing warm. “I don’t want your pity.”

  “Then stop acting like a weakling.” She put the car in drive. “You getting in?”

  Rage, directed more at myself than anyone else, had my arms shaking around my book. “I’ll walk.”

  Wilma’s car pulled up beside me as I headed for the sidewalk, the passenger window open. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’ll stay out of it, promise.”

  I nodded, keeping my eyes directed at my feet.

  Wilma’s sigh hit me right in the ear. “Just…you need to stop being so afraid all the time. You’ve got to be strong, now more than ever.”

  Jesus, what the hell did that even mean? I stopped, and so did she. “Thanks for the advice.” I headed toward the theater, releasing tears as her engine faded into the distance.

  Tarek

  Dimension of Exemplar, present day…

  The screens showed the same thing every day. Flashes of dimensions, some vivid and chaotic, others dull and tranquil–they all mocked him.

  Nothing. Seventeen years of nothing.

  Tarek scratched at the knotted mat on his head that used to pass for hair and propped his muddy boots on the beat-up table. They landed on piles of notes, years of worthless research, as he stared at the screens, not really seeing, until the noises from the boar caught his attention. The thing sputtered and coughed grease as it turned on the spit, spilling juices into the fireplace that took up the whole right wall.

  Her idea, the fireplace. He’d built it for her; every stone set and mortared by his hands. When she left, he allowed the chute to get clogged and unusable. That was how the first eleven years went. The last six, he built the fire every day, the memories of her not as raw, and even welcomed, as the screens showed him shit he didn’t care about.

  Those countless dimensions ran across the screens in front of him while he slumped on the ripped-up, worn sofa, forgetting about the pig. Old feelings of hope now replaced with habit. After all these years, the screens and that fireplace kept him going, even though breathing became a chore at times. He’d promised to find her when the Synod’s authority snatched her away. He promised.

  Rubbing his face, ignoring the thick beard from weeks without a razor, he went to the window. The serenity of the field–their field–screamed at him. This had been their place with the bright flowers always in bloom and the apple trees constantly spitting fruit on the ground. Their sanctuary. He pulled up the window to catch the breeze that always brought in the smell of apples and lilacs, creating a bigger void in his chest. Didn’t matter. Emptiness was his best friend, the only reliable thing left.

  He adjusted the pig when the spit moved off-kilter. The savory smell reminded his stomach of how empty he let it get before giving in to the weakness. No big deal. He’d eat until his stomach stretched to its limit and put the rest in the fridge. Maybe he’d eat it tomorrow–maybe throw it away in two weeks when rotting carcass masked the scent of apples and flowers.

  He ignored his stomach’s griping when the meat needed another hour and went to study her bookshelves, touching nothing. Everything remained the way she had arranged it, including the open book on Arcus sitting on the distressed wooden desk he built. A thick layer of dust was the only change.

  She’d accumulated information on every known dimension, researched them all. Her knowledge had made her so vital to Guides and Protectors alike. Who would’ve thought it all made her vulnerable, too?

  Sometimes he hated her for it.

  He rubbed his face again, immune to the tears leaking out of his eyes, and trudged into the kitchen already feeling the whiskey burn his tongue.

  As he rinsed his dirty mug, a knock sounded on the door and fuzz entered his brain. One person cared enough to invade his space–and his self-induced isolation. He didn’t have to turn around to know the tenacious bastard already let himself in. “What?”

  “Well, that’s no way to greet the only person who still shows up to your pity party.” A small man who looked and acted more like a scholar than a Protector, Mateusz stopped giving him sympathy about a year after the authority took her. Had to give the guy points, though. He hadn’t stopped coming to check on him either.

  The whiskey filled Tarek’s spotty mug before he turned to meet the eyes of his only friend. “Then why do you still come here?”

  “For the lively company.”

  “Ha.” He took a deep drink, relishing the burn–looking forward to the inevitable effect.

  Mateusz pushed his wire frames farther up his nose before he sat at the dining table big enough for two. “Smells like dinner’s almost ready.”

  “You’re not invited.” Another sip warmed his stomach and loosened the tension in his shoulders.

  “At least we can count on your unfailing manners.” Mateusz’s attention shifted to the running screens. He peeled off his specs and cleaned the lenses while squinting at the back wall. After clearing his throat, he said, “The Guides need you, Tarek. You’re one of the best Protectors we have. And the Synod is…impatient for your return.”

  “Don’t care what those assholes want.” So what if Exemplar’s governing branch had a hard on for him. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  “You should.”

  Mateusz was head of the Synod’s authority; a promotion he took ten years ago. The man had a way of making sure they stayed off his back all these years. But from the amount of time spent on this conversation lately, it sounded like Mateusz’s way wasn’t working anymore.

  “Let them come get me,” Tarek said.

  Mateusz’s reasonable tone grew quiet. “It’s a death sentence if it comes to that.”

  After another sip and a refill when the bottom of the mug became too clear, he said, “Don’t care.”

  Mateusz slammed a fist on the worn, scratched surface of the table but kept silent. After a few seconds, his attention went back to the screens as a hand propped up his chin.

  Tarek shrugged and took another sip. When the bastards did come, he’d be ready. Death would be the outcome, but he’d take some with him. He should’ve killed a few when they came seventeen years ago.

  “You’re not the only person who has ever
lost someone.” Mateusz’s voice broke the silence filling the tiny space.

  Wasn’t easy ignoring the guilt eating at him, but Tarek managed. Mateusz lost his woman a couple years ago. He never shared how, and Tarek didn’t feel right asking. The only question he had for the guy was how did he function? Faith in the Synod, in the cause, Mateusz had said, kept him sane.

  Unfortunately, Tarek never had the older Protector’s gift of optimism. “Guess I’m not as strong as you.”

  Mateusz waved his hand in the air after a quick swipe at his eyes. “This conversation…it’s not what I’ve come to discuss for once.” He shoved those ridiculous glasses back up his nose. “There’s been some talk…about Lena.”

  Lena

  I awoke Saturday morning shaky and cold. I was sure the bed had something to do with my freezing toes and stiff muscles, but it was the first time in days I didn’t wonder where Zander had disappeared to.

  Unfortunately, Him made no appearances in my dreams, either. It would’ve been nice to see those gray eyes and dimples when he smiled.

  Pretty shitty thing to do, pretend boyfriend…

  I put on some old sweats and my worn shoes and went for a long run through the fog and chill left from an overnight rainstorm. The adrenaline rush further eroded Zander’s image from my mind, making his absence bearable–even welcome. I felt stronger, like I just climbed to the summit of Mount Everest.

  Once I cleaned up, I went to wait for Jake in the living room. Mom sat in her chair, reading. Don’t know how she concentrated with Dad’s snores rattling the thin walls.

  I sat in the other chair, hating the way the seat had Dad’s ass indent molded into it. “Whatcha reading?”

  She smiled, showing me the cover of a romance. “I know it’s silly, but…” When she blushed, her face looked so much younger–pretty.

  “Not at all.” I grinned, admiring the bare-chested hottie on the cover, imagining my own with gray eyes. “At least the guys in those things aren’t jerks.”

  “True, true.” She dog-eared her page and focused on me. “What’s on the agenda today?”

  I shrugged. “Not much. Jake’s picking me up. We’re gonna give the theater a little TLC before tonight’s opening.”

  “Sounds…fun?”

  “Loads.” It was my turn to blush. “Um… Stump brought up the scholarship thing again. Says I have a pretty good shot.”

  Her face brightened. She really was beautiful. “That’s wonderful, honey.” She leaned over to hug me.

  “Yeah, well, let’s not get our hopes up, okay? There’s a lot of competition.”

  She hugged me tighter. “But you’re special. You have a huge advantage, I’d say.”

  I shifted in my chair. “There’s plenty out there who’d disagree.”

  After letting go, she gave me that look. “Well, I knew you were special the minute God gave you to me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I know, I know. Puking your guts out probably clued you in on how great I was.” The conversation went the same every time. But I loved it, every word, every smile she gave.

  “Oh, I never got sick. I felt powerful, like this little warm glow shined inside me. And I’m telling you, God spoke to me the day you were born.”

  I stayed silent, loving the wistfulness clouding her eyes.

  “I was going to name you Christina, after my mother.” She put a palm to my cheek, sliding her thumb across my lower lip. “You would have loved her.”

  “Sounds like she was amazing.”

  “Yes, she was.” Mom wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye. “But I heard Him loud and clear that day. He said your name was Lena, my bright one. Your light has guided me since the first time I saw your face.”

  This was why I fought so hard to keep her safe. Warmth filled every pore, every muscle. I loved her with everything I had because she’d given me no less. Smiling, I gave her shoulder a squeeze.

  The sun reached the top of the sky, shining straight into the window, like the story had approval from the guy upstairs. It always reminded me that I didn’t have it as bad as some. At least I had a mother who loved me. Most kids in the park didn’t even have that.

  Jake’s jeep pulled up. He knew better than to beep the horn, but I recognized the soft hum of the engine. I pecked Mom on the cheek before heading outside. Mom waved at Jake from the window as I opened the car door.

  He returned it with a polite smile, and said as I hopped in, “I can’t wait to get her out of that house.”

  Jake knew Mom back in high school. He was a jock, and she, the girl every guy drooled over. At least, that’s what Jake told me. God knows how she ended up with Dad.

  “Only three more weeks to go.”

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Jake and I spent the entire morning scrubbing floors, arranging boxes, and wiping windows. By the time we finished, the old theater lobby sparkled–in that dingy, retro kind of way.

  A one-time amateur middleweight in the early nineties, pictures of Jake in the ring and his trophies were the major décor in the small area. Had to admit the mullet he rocked then was pretty impressive.

  I tried to get him to change it a few times, make the lobby look more like a theater instead of a trophy case, but he said the stuff showed how he managed to buy the place. Of course, he’d never admit to bragging.

  Whatever.

  As big as an ox, and just as stubborn, Jake was my third favorite person in the world, next to Wilma and Mom. I stopped complaining a while back and let him have his secret vanity.

  “Okay, break time.” Jake threw his dirty cloth on the concession counter and went into his office for a second. When he came out, a clear bag filled with sandwiches was in one hand and a present wrapped in colorful balloon wrapping paper sat in the other.

  I stopped wiping the front windows and held up my hands. “Nuh-uh. Nope. What’d you do?”

  Jake’s face broke into a huge grin, his twice-broken nose moving farther to the right. “I got you something.”

  “No way, I’m not taking it.” I knew what was in that big, badly wrapped box. New track shoes and a warm-up suit. He’d been buying my gear since I started working for him in the ninth grade.

  “Consider it an early birthday present.” He shoved it toward me, but I refused to take it.

  “My birthday’s not for another two months.”

  He snatched the cloth from my fingers and pushed the box into my hands. “Take it, or I’ll fire you.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  “Don’t test me, Lena. It’s bad enough you won’t move into the apartment now. Told you it’s on the house.”

  I wrapped my arms around the box, really wanting the stuff, but hating myself for accepting his charity. “I’m tired of being the poor case. I wanna make my own way.”

  He nudged my chin, his smile softening. “And you are. But there’s nothing wrong with a little help.”

  My face heated. Now, what to say to that?

  “Open it.”

  I sighed, sitting in the middle of the lobby and took my time unwrapping. The shoes were expensive and so were the clothes. The tears threatening made it hard to speak. “Thanks, Jake. They’re perfect.”

  “No problem, kid.”

  Love you… Too weird to say aloud, but it was true.

  We spent the next fifteen minutes eating the ham and cheese sandwiches he made, him showing me some boxing moves and me making fun of the Popeye tattoo on his forearm.

  At times like this, I couldn’t help being mad at Mom. When picking someone to have a kid with, she definitely made the wrong choice.

  “Break’s over. Time for the rooms and we’re done.”

  Just the mention of going into one of the showing rooms had my knees turning to mush. I hadn’t stepped foot in any of them since Tuesday, especially the room in the back. Where the chair…yeah…tried to kill me.

  “Um…I…”

  Jake’s eyes widened. “Hey, sorry you don’t have to–”

  “No,
no, it’s fine, really. Just…give me a second.”

  I guess he took that as an invitation to bring up the elephant in the room. “Have you heard from Zander?”

  A twinge stabbed my heart. It was subtle, but I felt the sting. “Not since that night.”

  “He’s an asshole, you know.”

  “No, he’s not. There’s gotta be something wrong.” I fiddled with a piece of wrapping paper. “He’d never leave like that if there wasn’t.”

  “How would you know? You’ve only known the guy for three months. He doesn’t even let you come to his house.”

  Nothing like hitting where it hurt. “He said his dad doesn’t let him have people over.” That sounded weak after saying it aloud.

  Guess Jake thought so, too. “Bullshit.”

  “I won’t let him come in my house either.” The more I talked, the more pathetic I felt.

  “That’s not the same, and you know it. His dad isn’t a drunk who beats on his wife and kid. At least, I don’t think he is. Have you ever met the guy?”

  “Zander said he’s never home.”

  “And apparently now Zander isn’t either.”

  “He doesn’t owe me anything.” The sandwich began to curdle in my stomach.

  “If that’s the way you want people to treat you, kid, keep believing it. One little thing happens and he disappears.”

  For the first time in a while, I wanted to punch him in his stupid square jaw. “Since when do you care? What are you, like forty or something?” Low blow, but he was dishing it out, too.

  He hung his head, picking at some crumbs on the counter. “Sorry. Just care.”

  It’d be way too easy to lash out at Jake. He could always take a hit, whether in the gut or the heart. Zander’s absence wasn’t worth being pissed at the guy who was always there–even after claiming a chair tried to kill me.

  The tension between us evaporated. “Forgiven. He’s…just a sore subject.”

  “You can do better.”

  “Believe it or not, boys aren’t high on my list right now–even Zander. Moving into the apartment and track is my focus.”

  “Good focus.”

  I threw the wrapping paper in the garbage and picked up a broom. No time like now to face my fears. “All right, I’m gonna start with the back room.”