by TylerRose.
“Whatever you do, do not try to go into her mind.”
“I’m not. I don’t want to,” she shook her head, and poured hot water into the large brown teapot to take upstairs.
Truth be told, the violence in Tyler’s mind at this time was outright frightening. Bloody deaths, horrific scenes of bodies dissected, men killed. A set of faces that seemed familiar, but which Roc knew she had not seen before.
She placed the tray on the dresser and poured a cup for Jerome. “Is it wearing off, do you think?”
“No, I don’t,” Jerome said flatly, and put down the spoon and glass he’d been using to try to get Tyler to swallow water. “It seems to me that REM sleep triggers the hallucinations. There’s nothing we can do to stop REM unless we try to keep her awake. Personally, I’d rather let her sleep it off if possible.”
“You called Chen, yes? Why isn’t he here yet?” Roc asked.
“I don’t know,” he replied, checking the time. Just after 11pm.
He took the cup and sat in the chair to brood, thinking this out. Solomon was making the drug and supplying the area dealers. He wanted Tyler out of the way or to join him—which would never happen. He wouldn’t go to the restaurant himself. The place wouldn’t be standing if she’d felt or seen him there. So he would have sent a grunt to do put the drug into her drink. But why so much? Eleven doses was enough kill five people.
Did he want her given so much because of her high tolerances to alcohol and other things? Solomon would know about them.
One thing Jerome knew: The bastard would pay. One way or another, he would pay for this and for every other thing he’d ever done to her. The Death of 1000 Cuts would be kind in comparison to what Jerome would do to him.
Setting all that aside, he looked at her as she slept so peacefully. Almost childlike with her hands under her chin, one hand curled and her chin inside the little circle made by finger and thumb. So adorable he almost cried. She was going to be 19 soon. Another couple weeks or so? What was the date? He thought back to last year. The Indigenous Tyler had called on her birthday and asked him to go see her mother. The twenty-something. Sixth? Twenty sixth?
Today was the eleventh—make that the 12th, he thought, looking at his watch again. A few minutes after midnight. Fourteen days. He would have to do something special for her birthday. Take her somewhere.
If she survived.
He stewed alone in the silence until Gable snorted awake in the other chair.
“What time is it?”
“Ten after two,” Jerome replied.
“Where is everyone?”
“Roc is in her room. Star is with Landra in the Comm center.”
Tyler stirred and mumbled, the voices having returned. In an instant she was upright, eyes wide and darting around.
“Where are they?”
Jerome and Gable exchanged a wary glance, each looking to the other for some idea how to handle this.
“They’re not here,” Jerome said, hoping cooperation would keep her calm. “They’re not coming tonight.”
“Don’t you hear them?” she asked, looking into his good eye.
She was coherent enough to know which was the good eye. Maybe she would be reasonable this time.
“Who is it talking?” he asked, moving forward to sit on the edge of the chair in case she bolted again.
“It’s them! They came before.” Clarity was gone, her eyes glassing over. “I have to go.”
She was on her feet and heading for the door. Jerome cut her off, hooking his arm around her waist and grabbing a wrist with the other hand. Using her inertia against her, he turned her around to go back to the bed.
“They’ll come and take me!” she yelled, jerking her arm and twisting.
He planted his feet directly behind her, pulling her into a close bear hug. She kicked down on his shins and he adjusted his feet to be out of her way.
“They’ll find me and ruin everything!”
He said nothing, holding her tighter and starting to extend the Staff Power around her.
“Ow! You’re hurting me!” she shouted.
He let up the slightest bit and she yanked her right arm free. Elbow slamming into his ribs, she caught him off guard. She might not be using her Shaolin training, but she could still fight dirty.
Working to recapture the arm, following her around as she dipped under his arm, he caught her and brought it up behind her back. With a leg sweep, he put her on the floor. On his knees behind her, he brought the left arm up to meet the right.
“Look out!” Gable hollered.
In his peripheral, Jerome saw something flying toward him. He ducked and several knickknacks smashed into the wall. He heard the dresser sliding and extended his Staff Power in a dense cocoon around them. She cried out in pain, the dresser halting and the small table usually between the two chairs crashed to the floor.
Then came the vibrations, twice as strong as they had been previously. She continued to screech and shriek, sobbing hysterically as she drew each new breath. Jerome’s eyes closed in concentration, and he held on with new determination. He would ride out the waves she was throwing. He would not give in during this, the one moment she needed his strength—needed him—the most. He just had to hang on until she wore herself out.
Inside Tyler’s mind was a hurricane of mammoth proportions, swirling with the ferocity of a thousand devils that prevented her from gaining control. She tried hard, mind and body no longer hers to command. She fought it off as best she could, surrounding her most sacred core with a bubble of protection. Deafening, indistinguishable sounds, a million pictures shown so fast they flashed like a strobe light. The past. The present. The future. A thousand timelines with a million variations. A billion people crying out, wailing in fresh misery with every surge, crossing timelines to find her and plead for mercy.
She felt only the pain of it, lashing out psionically to release the tremendous pressure in her head. Her energy backlashed against her, held close by an external force she could not see or sense. Pressure grew exponentially inside her mind, trapped in her head. There was no escape no matter how hard she fought. She knew she must fight as long and as hard as she could or the hurricanes would swallow her whole. She’d spend every ounce of life force in order to prevent being taken.
“Julian,” she whimpered. “Make it stop.”
She renewed the battle within herself, refusing to die. She had far too much to do yet.
From the relative safetyof the bathroom door, Roc and Gable watched the blue energy shift and dance around the pair struggling on the floor. Brilliant flashes zapped out when her cries were loudest. Jerome let go her right arm to place his fingertips on the back of her neck. Instead of fighting against him, her freed hand went to her head, fingers burying in her hair in her distress and desperation.
The energy ball danced faster, becoming a solid sphere for several blindingly intense seconds. A crackle of static and it was gone and she was unconscious on her knees. Jerome held himself together long enough to slap the back of her neck several times. He released the arm between her shoulder blades, unable to guide her down this time.
She fell to the floor as he struggled to his feet and staggered back. Legs giving out, he caught the wall next the bathroom door at the last second and braced hard to keep upright. His legs were jelly. Putting his back to the wall, he let himself slide down, strength drained in a way he found beyond alarming. Heels of his palms pressed into his temples to ease the throbbing and stabbing pains, beyond dizzy and on the verge of passing out, black spots appeared to disrupt his vision. He smelled ozone, skin tingling painfully.
“God damn!”
“Landra Ahr!” he hear Roc shouting several times. “Gable, get her onto the bed.”
Jerome felt a presence in front of him and opened his eyes to see Roc.
“Are you all right?” she asked, worry plain on her face.
He blinked repeatedly to clear the cobwebs. “Huh?” He looked up to see Landra Ah
r approaching. “Fuck me. She almost broke through that time. My whole body is full of needle pricks like when your leg falls asleep. My head is pounding. I got nothing left.”
Landra Ahr reached for the can of pop Roc handed to him and placed it firmly in Jerome’s hand. “Drink.”
Jerome chugged it down in long gulps and crushed the empty can. The room was a mess of shattered knickknacks and furniture
“Shit,” he breathed.
Knowing Jerome could not withstand another episode without assistance, Landra Ahr prepared an injection of Taveragian stimulant and administered it. Within seconds Jerome’s heart beat stronger and fatigue melted away. He drew several deep breaths.
“How do you feel now?” Landra Ahr asked.
Jerome nodded, confident. “Better.”
Standing and reaching a hand down, Landra Ahr helped him to his feet. Jerome saw movement near the bedroom door.
“Chen! I didn’t see you come in. What took you so long?”
“You were getting to know the wall. I had to obtain permission to enter private property to get a specific plant,” Chen replied, surveying the damage. “Obviously you are having a rough night.”
“Just another wild Thursday night at the Black residence!” Jerome said.
“So I see,” Chen said, going to the bed.
He examined Tyler’s eyes, fingers, placed a firm hand on her chest to feel her heart and her chi. Then he cleared the end table and removed items from his leather pouch.
“I will require very warm water.”
“I’ll get it,” Gable said
“What will your herbs do?” Roc asked, watching from the other side of the bed.
“Help her sleep. Help her to be calm when she wakes. This is the Rovan, yes?”
“Yes.”
Chen nodded once. “I also brought things that will help when the pains begin, should she survive until then.”
“I thought nothing would help the pains,” Roc said. “That’s what is reported.”
“Few doctors know much about the benefits of herbal mixtures.” He pointed to the large, dark, dried scorpion. “This is a powerful painkiller if handled properly; but doctors today are too dependent on manufactured chemicals. We will try what has not been tried and see if we do better.”
Gable returned with a cereal bowl of steaming water, placing it on the table. “Does it matter if I heated it in the nuker?”
“It does not,” Chen replied.
“I think he meant a cup of water,” Jerome said.
“It is the water that is important, not the vessel in which it is brought,” Chen interrupted, crushing herbs in his stone mortar and pestle.
He removed a shallow dish from his pouch and scooped up some water. A sprinkle of ground herbs, a stir with a thin stick, and he told Jerome to lift her to sitting up a bit. Dish to her mouth, he let a small bit trickle in. When her swallowing reflex kicked in, he poured the rest. Jerome lowered her to the pillow
“How long will she sleep?” Roc asked.
“If she is fortunate, several hours.”
“Why don’t you both go to bed,” Jerome said to her and Gable. “I’m up for the rest of the night, at least, and Landra is here.”
She’d only be the other side of the bathroom and he’d only be twenty feet down the hall. They both went.
Jerome was about to sit and brood some more when Chen told him to perform Chi Kung forms. After two forms, he took his place in front of Jerome, hand to hand, and led his pupil in mirrored exercises. They worked for an hour solid and ended with Jerome feeling much more calm and in control.
Twenty minutes before four in the morning and she became agitated again. Chen knelt at the table to make another, stronger, mixture of herbs.
“Too strong a chi,” he muttered.
“Why hasn’t she died yet? Most of them die of cardiac arrest during an overdose,” Jerome said, having read everything Landra Ahr could get on the subject, including the Congressional station reports.
“She has a very strong chi. She does not give up no matter the odds against her and no matter the cost to herself. Nothing and no one defeats her,” Chen said.
Jerome’s response was cut off by a jumping shriek. She was out of bed, crouched on the floor, eyes wild and darting around the shadows.
“Shit,” Jerome hissed.
Landra Ahr blocked her path one way, Chen another. She turned on Jerome and thrust forward with both hands from five feet away. He flew backward with a burst of red energy, slamming into the wall under the television with an involuntary grunt, force of impact cracking two ribs in his back. An unseen burst of scorching hot wind washed over him, smothering in its intensity. The hair on his arm singed off in a split second.
“Oh shit!” he shot, a short blast of Staff Power bursting out over his aura to deflect the increasing heat. Instant fury, he stalked her down. “That’s it!”
She ran from him into Landra Ahr’s grasp. Arm drawn back but Chen moved between them with an upraised palm.
“No.”
“I’m only gonna hit her once.”
“Never in anger, Disciple. She is defending herself. She is fighting for her life.”
Jerome’s jaw clenched hard, anger raging and demanding satisfaction. He spun around and slammed a fist into the wall and reined himself in. Calm enough to not hurt her, he stomped over to where she stood struggling against Landra Ahr’s unyielding grip. Tilt of her head to bring her chin up and he popped her on the button that was her chin. She dropped like a sack of rocks.
“No more!”
Landra Ahr lifted her across both arms, assessing the situation. Events were growing worse, not better. If she escalated again, she was likely to destroy everything around them, reduce the warehouse to burning rubble. No one here could make her stop. They could not give her any drugs to knock her out because that alone might kill her.
He concluded that the next incident would either kill her or everyone around her. He made his decision. If no one here could help her, he would take her to people who would.
“Come hold her with me, Jerome. I know what to do.”
Jerome stepped over, flexing his hairless and sunburnt arms. Turning them to the undersides, he held her legs and shoulders.
“This is going to be rough, I’m sure,” Landra Ahr said, and activated a vocal recording he’d taken during those first days she’d lived in the warehouse.
“SANCTUARY!”
It was precisely as he remembered. A quick scan and he found Jerome unconscious several feet behind on the cement platform. Men from all directions rushed to them, most standing ready while the two in formal robes mounted the few steps. One split off to go to Jerome while the other glanced over Tyler with knowing eyes before looking up to Landra Ahr.
“Welcome back to Sanctuary, Im Reesana,” said the one approaching him. He’d not heard the Language of the Landers translation of his name in a long time. “I am Jiogaard, Tyler Rose’s Caretaker. Come with me.”
“What of Jerome?” Landra Ahr asked, hearing him retch into the bushes.
“Yoshgaard will care for him. He will be near. Tell me what has happened.”
Jerome woke vomiting, body convulsing to empty the stomach of all contents. His gut squeezed so hard he wouldn’t have been surprised to see his intestines flop from his mouth. Unseen hands held his untied hair back from his face while a strong fist pressed firmly into his gut to stop the dry heaves. A cold container of water was held to his mouth. He rinsed his mouth and spat before taking a drink.
“Tyler,” he managed to croak through the dense fog in his head. His lids were open but he could not process what his one eye saw.
“She is safe and being cared for. Rest a moment. You must recover from entry into our gravity. I am Yoshgaard, your Caretaker.”
“Get off me!” Jerome shrugged. “I don’t need no fuckin’ Caretaker. Where is she?!”
He struggled to his feet, weighed a thousand pounds, swayed with dizziness in the heat
and fell hard to his knees.
“What you need is a moment to acclimate. You cannot force it. Accept what you feel.”
“I have to get to Tyler. She’s gonna teleport or blow something up.”
“She will not.”
“Where the fuck am I?” Jerome demanded.
“You are on Sanctuary. You are safe.”
Landra Ahr placed heron the bed and stepped aside. “I could think of nothing else to do than bring her here,” he finished his explanation.
Jiogaard sat behind her, placing his first two fingers on her Third Eye. “This is not the Rovan. She is Widening the Breach.”
“How is that possible?” Landra Ahr asked, initiating another intense scan.
“Summon Julian,” Jiogaard said to the assistant standing by, sending him running from the bungalow.
“We have been trying to reach Julian all night. We could not.”
“For L’Roc-ai he is unreachable,” Jiogaard corrected. “Not for us.”
L’Roc-ai.
For the second time since she was conceived, he had left her unprotected. He had not realized, in his haste to save Tyler’s life, that he had broken his oath. He had chosen the safety and welfare of another person over that of his most sacred charge. His circuitry froze for a millisecond with the realization of prophetic words. There had been no other choice. He had chosen Tyler over Roc.
He was not prepared for her words to come true so soon or in so decisive a way.
Feeling stronger, head clearing, Jerome was able to stand and walk without assistance. “I have to see her,” he insisted, descending the two wide steps.
“She is in a very dangerous condition. We must give Jiogaard time.”
“If she dies, I’m gonna kill you—“
“Be silent!” Yoshgaard snarled.
Turning on Jerome, advancing suddenly and forcefully, the human was pushed backward past the platform. Step by step he retreated, unable to resist the unseen wall of force.
“Issuing a threat against a Sanctarian is punishable by immediate and permanent banishment. If you wish to remain with the Immaculate and help her, you will shut your mouth and submit to the authority of these people. You have no control here. You tell no one what to do here. You raise neither your hand nor your voice to anyone here. Your crystal power is useless until we choose to let you use it. You are the guest of a Resident in dire need of our help and you will be treated with the exact same respect, or lack thereof, as you show to the people here. Starting with me.”
