A Flare Of Power

by Elodie Colt

  I nodded and strode over to a laptop on the table while she scanned the rest of the room with the flashlight on her phone. Logging into the database, I found one entry with Bryceland’s name—only it wouldn’t open. I tried to hack my way in, but the network security was too tight.

  “Fuck. He protected his files well. I can’t get around the passwords.”

  “There’s nothing here, dammit,” Bryceland cursed and bit into her fist in frustration.

  “Maybe they destroyed it,” I suggested, erasing the history I’d left behind on the laptop.

  “Why would they do that?”

  “No idea.”

  “What about that drawer?”

  I glanced down to where she directed the flashlight to a drawer in the desk. A lock was attached to it. Grabbing the handle, I pulled, but as expected, it wouldn’t budge.

  “Locked. I could break it open, but that would go against our ‘as quiet as possible’ arrangement.”

  “No need. Do you see paper clips anywhere?”

  I frowned, but before I could go in search for them, Bryceland’s hand shot out, snatching two clips from the other end of the table. Clamping her teeth around her phone to light the drawer, she unfolded the clips and stuck them into the lock.

  Chances were slim this was going to work, but after a few seconds of her manipulating the two clips, a click resounded, signaling the lock was open.

  “Where did you learn that?” I wanted to know, clearly impressed. It took more than just senseless fumbling with two paper clips to open a lock. Not that I’d ever needed to learn the skill. Usually, brutal force worked just fine for me.

  “Had to break into the principal’s office in high school a few times,” she mumbled absently, as if it was a completely normal thing to do.

  “Josh, are we still clear?” I checked while Bryceland fumbled with the papers in the drawer.

  “Everything looks good so far,” Josh confirmed.

  A crash startled me, and I whipped around to see an open folder scattered on the floor, along with a phone. Bryceland’s hand was clamped over her mouth in shock.

  Bending down, I picked up the things. A picture clipped to what seemed to be Bryceland’s patient file showed her in a hospital bed surrounded by four nurses and two doctors. The tiny room was rather crowded.

  Bryceland was covered in bruises, dried blood sticking to her clothes and skin. It looked as if she was writhing in agony, her face contorted in pain, her mouth wide open in a scream. Two nurses strapped her down to the bed, and two lay crumpled on the floor. One of them appeared to be unconscious with a scalpel sticking out of her upper arm, while the other was holding a hand over her bleeding nose. Equipment and all sorts of devices lay scattered on the ground, most of them completely ruined. A drawer had toppled over, a monitor lay broken on the floor, even the curtain rail over the window hung low on one side. One of the nurses had both hands on Bryceland’s head and was plunging a long needle into her neck—surely tranquilizers.

  What was utterly mysterious in the picture was the fact that the floor was demolished, too. The tiles where the wheels of the bed rested on the floor appeared broken, sharp edges jutting out in every direction. The bed posts were crooked, as if something too heavy had crashed into the bed and broken half of it in the process, including the tiles on the floor. One of the posts had snapped in two, bending the bed at a sideways angle.

  She had caused that, I was sure of it, and gathering from Bryceland’s look of total horror, she came to the same conclusion. This was what we’d witnessed during Jimmy’s interrogation—the broken tile under her shoe. Only that day in the hospital four years ago, the Bluster had controlled her, and the amount of destruction was evident in the picture.

  I glanced further down the paper, quickly scanning over the file.

  Name: Haylie Jocelyn Bryceland

  Gender: Female

  Observing Physician: Dr. Peter Simmons

  Blah, blah, blah… Patient found unconscious… shock… sister murdered… concussion… lethal cuts on forearm…

  I stopped as I recalled the cuts on her forearm, the ones which looked too ragged to be caused by a razor. Bryceland had said she’d scratched them when jumping over the fence. She hadn’t attempted suicide like I’d thought. For some reason, the knowledge relieved me.

  I quickly scanned over the rest of the paper.

  … Patient loses complete control and unleashes a strength I have never seen before. Nurses try to strap her down, two get hurt in the process… bed breaks… broken tiles… possible earthquake… no pupillary reflex… needs twice the dosage of tranquilizers than the average—

  “Dylan, you should get out of here. Dr. Simmons is on his way. He’s near the main entrance.” Phil’s voice resounded in my ear, and it startled me from my thoughts.

  I frowned, pressing a finger onto the earpiece so I could hear him better. “How do you know it’s him?”

  “His name is on his briefcase.”

  Shit. Couldn’t he have given us ten more minutes? If Dr. Simmons found out someone broke in, he’d call security immediately. Not that I couldn’t handle them, but I’d rather avoid casualties. And I needed to keep Bryceland out of this, not to mention what would happen if Dr. Simmons saw Bryceland in his office. He sure as hell hadn’t forgotten about her.

  “Bryceland, clean that up,” I snapped, pointing at the scattered files while quickly deleting any traces on the computer. I put the two ruined paper clips in my coat pocket and closed the drawer, then looked up to see Bryceland hadn’t moved an inch. “Bryceland!” I hissed, and she jumped, throwing me a baffled look. Her usual golden skin was eerily pale, her eyes wide and unseeing. With a curse, I quickly collected the files myself.

  “Dylan, hurry. He will be there in a few seconds. The staff has their own elevator here. I just saw him walk into one next to the entrance,” Phil urged.

  “Is there still time to get out?”

  “I guess not, so if you can find a hiding place, it would be a good choice.”

  Quickly scanning the room for hiding options, I spotted another door to our left. Probably a storage room.

  Grabbing Bryceland’s stolen clipboard and her phone, I took her by the waist and hauled her over to the other side of the room. Thrusting the door open, I scurried in with her in tow, quietly closing the door behind us.

  I stepped back to make room for both of us and banged my head on something bulky, a stinging pain prompting me to curse. It was probably some medical equipment making a barrier behind my back. As we had nowhere else to go, Bryceland bumped into me with her back to my front. She gave a low whimper just as the door to the office opened.

  My left hand clamped over her mouth, using just enough pressure to silence her, and I clawed the hand resting on her hip more firmly into her flesh, secretly commanding her to stay quiet.

  “… in the meeting tomorrow. If we can’t convince them of my method, we can forget the fundraising, and my work was for nothing…”

  The exasperated voice of a man who was likely Dr. Simmons himself came from the room. As no other voice replied to what he was saying, I guessed he was talking to someone on the phone. I hoped he didn’t plan on doing late night shifts, or we would have to go through a long, quiet, and excruciating night.

  “Dylan, what’s going on?” Jimmy asked over the earpiece, but I couldn’t risk answering right now, afraid to alert the doctor to our presence. Jimmy would get the clue.

  Bryceland was still trembling from shock, her breaths irregular, her lips quivering under my fingers. If she didn’t calm down soon, she’d get a panic attack. Or worse. A dark, dusty, and narrow room wasn’t exactly a place to relax.

  “Hush, calm down. I need you to relax.” My tone was barely above a whisper as I tried to use a soothing voice, afraid the tiniest noise would draw attention to us. She swallowed laboriously, struggling to get her breathing back to normal. I prayed she’d hold it together by the time we were out of here. I would be helpless agai
nst a Natural in the Bluster… like I’d been once already.

  No. I needed to prevent that at all costs.

  “It’s alright, Haylie,” I added softly, hoping my use of her first name would comfort her. It was the first time I said it out loud, and I didn’t expect the letters to roll over my tongue so easily.

  Increasing my grip on her hip, I pulled her into me. Her back flattened against my front, and I inclined my head to avoid getting my eye stabbed by the sharp end of her hair clip.

  I removed my left hand from her mouth, slowly as to not bump into anything again. Then, I moved the same hand further across her collarbone, placing it on her right shoulder. I did the same with the right hand until it rested on the left side of her hip, my arms now crossing her entire torso in a hopefully soothing gesture. Haylie’s heart was pumping rapidly, as I could feel its frantic beating where my forearm touched her throat.

  “… no, darling, I’ll be home in a few minutes. I just had to go back to the office to get the clinical research.”

  Hearing this, Haylie’s heartbeat slowed down a little, but then I made a mistake.

  I inhaled.

  Her scent hit me forcefully, intoxicating me nearly to the point of dizziness. It was nothing in comparison to the woman I’d misused only minutes earlier. I could make out a sweet but natural fragrance like vanilla, honey, and something flowery like lotus. There was also a tinge of freshness, like the woodsy scent of a forest after a heavy summer rain—fresh, clean, pure.

  I inhaled again, this time deliberately slow to elicit the individual scents. Haylie smelled like nature itself but only in its sweetest combination. Her scent was overwhelming, as if she’d activated a mechanism to pump the room with an aphrodisiac. It was everywhere in this tiny space, and I couldn’t escape it.

  She didn’t miss my intentional movement, and her body tensed in my cage of arms. I felt the muscles in her stomach flex, making my hands itch to glide over it to feel the soft skin stretching under my fingers. She shifted the tiniest bit, causing her butt to brush against my groin. Not a good move. I’d taken Danielle once in a storeroom the same size, but thinking about that night was rather unwise in the current situation. I quickly willed my thoughts into a safer direction, which seemed to be impossible with the alluring scent filling my nose.

  “Where did I put my notebook?” Dr. Simmons huffed, and his voice was suddenly a lot closer than before. We both held our breaths as we braced ourselves for him to open the door to our hiding place. If that happened, we were screwed, unless I knocked him out, but I hoped I could save myself the trouble.

  Haylie swallowed again around the lump in her throat. Suddenly, my thumb slid over the skin of her naked collarbone, giving it a gentle stroke. Or maybe two.

  Seriously, I hadn’t intended to do it, but my hand seemed to move on its own accord, as if someone had attached invisible strings and was now remote-controlling my limbs. Haylie’s head fought with gravity and rolled slightly backward. It seemed as if she was about to lean her head on my shoulder, but she stopped herself halfway, most likely remembering who was standing behind her.

  God, her skin was so soft under my touch. It felt nothing like Danielle’s rough skin, blemished from unhealthy nutrition, too much makeup, and Botox.

  The air was hot and sticky and the tension so tight, I felt it nearly vibrating against my skin. I was tempted to eliminate the one remaining inch separating my lips from her neck. If I could just strike my tongue over there once to see if she tasted as good as she smelled…

  “Hah! Here it is!”

  Haylie jerked, and I did the same, the intimate moment bursting like a bubble. Thank God. I needed to remind myself that the neck I nearly devoured had been choked and bruised by my hands only weeks before.

  Quick steps resounded as Dr. Simmons strode over the floor. A door opened and shut just as quickly. Then silence.

  “He left. You can come out,” Josh informed us. Yeah, thanks for the information, man.

  Dropping my hands, I leaned away from the girl in front of me in hopes of putting some distance between us. What had I done? And why the hell had I done it? Was I so desperate for sex that I craved the feel of the only person I wasn’t allowed to touch at all costs?

  “Let’s get out of here,” I mumbled and gave Haylie a little shove to get her away from me.

  Far, far away from me.

  ~~~

  “She could have killed them all…” Chris mumbled in disbelief, taking a sip from his beer while staring at the picture in his hands. I hadn’t had the chance to fetch the rest of the folder in our hurry, but the photograph was proof of the destruction she’d left behind that day four years ago.

  I remained silent, downing half of my beer in one pull. I didn’t want to look at the picture showing her in so much agony. Thinking back to that fateful night everything went to pieces, my Bluster had been brutal. Haylie was lucky she didn’t remember anything, whereas my actions were branded into my mind for eternity.

  “Fuck. It can’t be so hard to find out what ability she has. We’re running in circles,” Chris cursed, tossing the photograph back. I absently played with the lid of my beer while my mind whirled like a hurricane.

  It frustrated me. Haylie frustrated me. She’d made my life fucking complicated in the few weeks she was here.

  After her meltdown, Haylie hadn’t spoken a word on our way home. I hadn’t bothered to cover her eyes before re-entering the compound. She hadn’t perceived anything of her surroundings anyway. When she’d descended the ladder to the tunnels, her hands had trembled so hard, she nearly lost her grip. Back in the compound, she’d retreated to her room after thanking me for my help.

  That had been the end of our conversation. There was nothing more to say.

  “Are you okay?” Chris asked, concerned. “You look pissed. Did something else happen in there?”

  Another sip of my beer. “No.” I licked the foam off my lips.

  Chris grunted. “Yeah, right. I know that tone of yours. Did you lose it again around her?” he demanded in alarm.

  “No.”

  Well, at least not in the way Chris thought. I’d definitely lost my mind in there for a second or two. As far as I remembered, my control flew out the nearest window in one blow.

  “I just want her to end her training so she can leave,” I droned, convincing myself this would solve all my problems.

  Chris nodded absently, sighed, and got up from his barstool. He took out his briefcase and put a few bills on the bar counter. “Did you ever see her smile?”

  I threw him a confused look, taken aback by his question. “What?”

  “It’s beautiful. You should try to get one from her,” Chris carried on, a smile plastered on his face, seemingly caused by a memory. And with that, Chris left the bar.

  Was he kidding? What did he expect me to do? I wasn’t the man to make women smile. I was only good at making them temporarily happy, giving them the satisfaction they needed. I was a lover, a womanizer, not a partner for eternity. It was all I could do not to scream at Haylie every time I laid eyes on her.

  I’d never done anything to make her smile. It was better this way. If she hated and feared me, she’d keep her distance—a distance I needed more than anything. Ironically, I’d done the complete opposite when I made the decision to break into the hospital’s archive with her. How fucked up was that?

  Even more absurd, what happened in the storeroom today was anything but keeping her at arm’s length. I’d fooled myself into thinking I comforted her to keep us undercover. No. It had been her reaction when she saw the files and seeing herself turn into an untamable beast that made me pity her at that moment. It had nearly cost my sanity and our cover.

  And that delicious scent… It had drawn me to her like a moth to the flame, unable to escape the lure. I wondered what would have happened if we’d been locked in there for a few minutes longer. Or even a few hours.

  Speaking of which, I was in desperate need of some serio
us distraction.

  Fishing out my phone, I scrolled down to Danielle’s name in my contact list, my finger hovering over the green button. Her shift wasn’t over for a few more hours, and she would never dismiss me, but something made me hesitate.

  I thought back to when I was touching Danielle. Then my thoughts shifted to when my fingers were trailing over Haylie’s skin. It had only been a stroke of my thumb, for God’s sake, but the impact of that tiny touch was enormous.

  What was this girl doing to me in the short time she was here? I suddenly felt disgusted thinking back to when my hands explored Danielle’s body only hours before.

  Putting the phone back into my pocket, I stood up to return to the compound. It seemed I had to find release alone tonight, with just the company of my hand.

  Yeah, that’s what I’d thought. After half an hour of useless handiwork under the blankets, I let the waistband of my shorts snap back into place in frustration. Even thinking about Cassie and the tremors shaking her body every time I’d made her come weren’t helping. Haylie’s face kept creeping back into my mind. That damn girl even ruined my sex life. How fucking frustrating was that?

  And what was worse, every time my mind drifted back to how her body had felt against mine, arousal suddenly got the better of me, but no, I wouldn’t go there. I would not masturbate with a picture of her as a mental model.

  With a curse, I climbed out of bed and put on my pants. I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. Might as well take a walk through the compound and relieve Phil from surveillance duty.

  Passing Haylie’s room, I wondered if she couldn’t sleep, either. I doubted the night’s events would let her drift away peacefully. But why did I even care? I shook my head to clear it. I needed to try harder to ban her from my mind.

  Before I made it to the control room, I saw light peering up from downstairs. It clearly came from one of the training halls, but usually, no one made use of them at night except me now and then. Descending the stairs, I approached the open door.

  Haylie.

  Sweat was pouring down her hairline into the top of her training suit. She was balancing on one of the bars of the obstacle course—left foot straight and stable on the surface, right foot stretched out in front of her, toes bent like a ballerina. Her arms formed a perfectly horizontal line at her sides, and her eyes were closed in concentration. I retreated into the shadows to avoid being caught.