by Meg Xuemei X
The others might not be able to detect the contradiction in Bayrose’s words and her undercurrent emotions, but Lucienne had her Siren’s power aiding her. The new elder is too eager to convince me with pretty words. She still didn’t buy into the girl’s story. She and Bayrose were both raised in political environments. Neither one could afford to be naïve. Bayrose’s act of giving up her prestigious life among the Sealers to surrender to her father’s enemy was illogical, if not outright ridiculous.
Lucienne dove into Bayrose’s mind. She needed to know where her opponent stood while the girl’s emotions were still raw. She must know if Bayrose had come to seek revenge instead of shelter. The first she saw in Bayrose’s mind was a shade, almost like a floating shadow. She blinked, unable to decide what it was. But then the girl’s good intentions toward Lucienne and Sphinxes were laid out in front of her. There wasn’t an ounce of pettiness, jealousy, or malevolence in her. She’s a better person than I. No wonder Vlad had trusted the girl. Emmanuel Thorn had deceived his own daughter and used her to mislead Vladimir.
But—
The elder girl couldn’t be such a saint. Lucienne must have read her wrong. She probed deeper into Bayrose’s mind. This time the girl’s memories and thoughts were like a broken record, and it played pain. As Lucienne listened for more, the record shrieked a broken love song. With a gasp, she retreated from the girl’s mind.
A strange, uneasy feeling haunted Lucienne.
Unlike Schmidt, Bayrose had no high-tech helmet to shield her, and Lucienne had pushed her mental net deep into Bayrose’s consciousness, but she couldn’t find the slightest hint that the elder girl was even angry at her, despite the girl’s suffering. It wasn’t plausible. It was unreasonable. Hadn’t Violet spat out that Lucienne killed Bayrose’s father and took her love?
Had the poisoned Forbidden Glory undermined Lucienne’s reading ability?
Or had Lucienne become so cynical that she was unable to believe the pure goodness in someone from the enemy’s trenches, especially in a girl who was in love with her boyfriend?
The pain she’d read in Bayrose came into a sharp focus. That might explain the shade Lucienne had first glimpsed in the former elder’s mind. It was her defense mechanism. The prince hurt Bayrose badly. He’d broken her heart.
It was clear now that Bayrose’s true intention was Vladimir. The girl wanted to be near him. Only by rescuing Kian and coming to Sphinxes could she achieve that. Love made people lose otherwise sound minds. Sympathy for the girl welled in Lucienne.
As long as Bayrose didn’t come for anyone’s blood in Sphinxes, Lucienne would allow her a fair chance to compete for Vladimir’s heart, though it would bleed her own heart to see Vlad with another girl. But love, unlike anything, had its own will.
She wondered how Vladimir would react to seeing Bayrose again once he returned. Her heart instantly pounded her rib cage at the prospect of seeing her Czech warrior soon.
“You’ve earned your keep here, Miss Thorn,” Lucienne said. “As I said before, I’m forever in your debt for Chief McQuillen’s safe return. I’m glad we won’t be enemies. If it’s your wish to build a life here, my team and I are more than happy to be of assistance.”
“Thank you, Siren,” Bayrose said as sincere tears formed in her lovely brown eyes.
“Bayrose, don’t trust that witch,” Violet said hotly. “She already bewitched Ash, and she’s done the same to your prince. We don’t know how many men she’s snared in her black spider’s web—”
Thaddeus stepped toward Violet, towering over her. “Remember who you’re speaking to, you ungrateful little bitch!” he spat. “Another slander against my cousin, and I’ll toss you out the window so you can crawl back to whatever hellhole you came from.”
Violet recoiled at the man’s menacing stare, seemingly realizing that she couldn’t throw a tantrum in Lucienne’s realm. In Nirvana, the king’s subjects had to tolerate her, for she was the bastard daughter of King Henry, but here, she was nobody. She was at the Siren’s mercy.
“Thaddeus, let her be,” Lucienne said.
“Violet, please apologize to the Siren,” Bayrose said.
“She is not my queen,” Violet said. “And I do have a backbone.”
Violet will never find it in her heart to forgive me, Lucienne realized. She insists that I stole the only man she’s ever loved. Without Ash, Violet had nothing to cling to. No home. No anchor. Adrift forever. Lucienne felt sorry for the girl, but that was no excuse for any kind of bad behavior.
“I let you stay here because of Ash,” Lucienne said, “but it’s not my obligation to take care of you. If you want to leave, I’ll have you shipped back to Nirvana this moment. But while you live on my land, you’ll learn basic courtesy. Do you understand?”
Violet remained silent.
“Say you understand,” urged Bayrose. “Violet, please! For me.”
The girl finally nodded curtly.
There wasn’t much Lucienne could do for Violet when it came to Ashburn’s feelings. She hoped as time went by that Violet would find the meaning of life for herself other than in Ashburn or any man. She turned her attention back to Bayrose. “Thank you for tending to our brave soldiers.”
Lucienne waved at the marines to carry on with a warm smile as she exited. They’d been laughing and joking with Bayrose before Lucienne had invaded their space. She didn’t feel wanted, but that was fine. They were her people. She was comforted to see that they were enjoying good company. She was also pleased to see Bayrose fitting in. It was time for her to let go of her petty grudge against Bayrose for the poison incident.
Then a marine’s voice carried out to the hallway where Lucienne and her guards treaded on. “Miss Bayrose, we’d love to have you visit again, but we don’t want your friend near us. Anyone who is rude to our Siren isn’t welcome here.”
Lucienne blinked. A soldier of hers shouldn’t take it personally when another teen insulted their Siren.
“You, redhead, get out!” another solider called.
Then the rest of the marines booed Violet.
“You look surprised, cousin,” Thaddeus said beside her, “that you’re loved by your soldiers.”
“I should’ve tried harder to help her adjust,” Lucienne said. “She’s Ash’s friend.”
“If there’s anyone who needs help, it’s you.” Dr. Wren took long strides to catch up with them. “It’s time for your physical, Lucia. No more excuses.”
CHAPTER 18
SERAPHEN’S HEAD
Fighting his aversion to dead bodies, Ashburn studied Seraphen’s corpse.
Seraphen had a complete set of organs, like a human, but he had no flow of blood. The fluid in his body looked like mercury. His heart was charred meat, burnt by the combined powers of Lucienne’s Eye of Time and Ashburn’s black lightning.
Ashburn stared at the grotesque sight of Seraphen’s heart and winced. “Seraphen?” he called as if he could summon the dead. He then immediately felt foolish.
Seraphen’s glassy, sightless eyes stared into nothingness.
Ashburn inserted a hand through the hole in Seraphen’s chest and touched his heart. It was cold and hard like a rock. He shrank back, quickly removing his hand. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do.
What was Seraphen made of? During their brief time together, Seraphen had never revealed his origin, but he’d uttered once, “We’re alike, Ashburn Fury.”
Ashburn had regarded that statement as a humorless joke. Now he wondered if Seraphen had meant that they were linked. When Ashburn had activated the Eye of Time, he’d also activated Seraphen. Yet the creature had held fear and hatred toward the ancient power, hatred as strong as his own.
Ashburn had never delved into their link when Seraphen had been alive. He’d rejected all things that would bring him closer to the Eye of Time and fulfill his terrible purpose. But if he wanted to save Lucienne, he must resurrect Seraphen. And to revive Seraphen, he must find and activate the shared link.
He needed to go up to the Ghost House to perform the task. Inside the Rabbit Hole, all connections to the outside world were shut down. Ashburn dragged Seraphen toward the invisible platform under the glowing liquid interface. The man was dead weight, literarily.
As soon as Ashburn pulled Seraphen out of the Rabbit Hole, he gasped at the onslaught of the billions of images and sounds rushing into his mind. He dropped Seraphen to the ground and clutched his head. He gritted his teeth as he forced the flowing consciousness in one direction—backstage. He hadn’t the power to deny their existence, but he was the traffic controller in his domain. Still shouting their presence, the collective consciousness reluctantly flushed into the background under Ashburn’s harsh commands.
They were a collective humming now, unsatisfied and hungry. Ashburn ignored them. He released his hands from his head after he was calmer. He took another minute to brace himself for TimeDust to frantically record the updates from around the world. The mundane world came alive in his databank.
A pained laugh escaped him. How ironic! He hoped this world was dead in his mind except for Lucienne. He brushed aside the world’s gossip to find new memories that centered on her.
Violet’s and another girl’s memories popped out. Violet was in Sphinxes, bitter, lonely, and desperate. She missed him terribly. Ashburn turned away from her memories. He could never give her his love. He was no longer the Ashburn she knew. The gap between them had grown light years across. Her devotion was but a burden to him. She used to be the only friend he had had, but now his childhood didn’t belong to him. It had merged with the collective consciousness to become a drop in the ocean. When it hit the bottom, no one could hear a splash. As he momentarily reflected on that, even the bile he used to taste on his tongue had faded.
But the collective consciousness couldn’t swallow Lucienne. She was never a part of his collection. He’d once felt so frustrated that he couldn’t figure her out. Now he was only thankful that he couldn’t have her memories. She stood out amid the billions. She was a beacon of light to him, his only remaining tie to humanity. If he couldn’t find a cure for her, his light would be gone forever. What would become of him?
The other girl, a new comer and an enemy to Lucienne, was Bayrose Thorn. What was the new elder doing in Sphinxes? Ashburn sorted through her memories. The girl had taken in the Shadow, which shrouded her present thoughts. Nevertheless, the girl was still a part of his vast collection of human memories. Like Bayrose, many broken people had ruptured memories. Ashburn could barely stand to look at them.
Were Lucienne’s memories distorted and broken in her state of insanity? He could never know. It pained him just picturing that reality for her.
Ashburn couldn’t pass the Shadow’s armor in Bayrose’s mind, but he’d seen her past. She’d sought to harm Lucienne, like many others. She was capable. In a short period of time, the girl had gained the love of the men in Sphinxes by serving and tending to injured marines and patients in the medical facility. She didn’t bother to conceal her identity as the new elder in the Sealers’ rank, but used her former status to her advantage. Her courage and sacrifice became a tale in Sphinxes. As word spread among the soldiers, she turned bigger than life—a Sealers’ princess became one of them and loved them.
When he returned to Sphinxes, Ashburn would shatter her false image. He would expose her lies. But he’d need to talk to Lucienne first. There was more about this girl than met the eyes. He looked at the elder girl a little longer, until he was sure that he didn’t need to make the trip to Sphinxes right away—Bayrose didn’t pose an immediate threat to Lucienne.
His childhood friend was also actively seeking to harm Lucienne. Violet wished her dead, which grieved Ashburn more than he grieved for her unrequited love. He didn’t want to hurt Violet, but he couldn’t turn a blind eye to her vicious intentions either. If there was any consolation, he knew neither girl could, at the moment, reach Lucienne.
The Siren kept her distance, though she arranged help for the new comers to slip into their new lives. While Bayrose was working hard on winning Sphinxes’ love, Lucienne became reclusive after having another mental lapse.
Through Aida’s current memories, Ashburn saw the world of red runes—the ones etched on the opal basin that once contained the ancient poison Blood Tear.
Lucienne, wearing a lacy red gown, was painting the runes on her bedroom wall.
“You should rest, my sweet girl,” her nanny said.
“Do not interrupt me again,” Lucienne snapped, “or I’ll throw you out and force you to stay with the guards. You don’t like them much, but I can’t always watch out for you. I’ve been trying very hard to be sensitive and not hurt your feelings, and your feelings are the size of the pea and just as easy to crush.”
“Sorry,” Aida murmured as she slumped onto a chair, turning to glare at the guards in the adjacent sitting room. They tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, knowing their mistress was testy today.
Lucienne turned back to the wall, holding a red pen in the air. “I can’t remember half of them.” She frowned. “I need to remember them all to decode them. These ancient runes said something about me and death, but they’re like whispers in the dark that I can’t catch up with.”
“Perish the thought.” The nanny jumped up from her chair. Lucienne’s talk of death pumped fear into the older woman’s heart. The nanny was superstitious. She was terrified the prophecy would come true if Lucienne finished the runes. “Now, sweet girl, let me comb your hair and get you ready for bed. It’s past midnight.”
“No,” Lucienne said. “Stop trying to put me into bed. I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m the Siren. I have responsibilities. I must finish this.” She tried to add a curved line to a half-finished rune, but stopped in the middle and turned to her nanny with a wild look. “Why is my mind a messy thread? Where’s Ash? I think clearer when he’s around.”
Ashburn’s heart leapt. She asked for him first instead of the Czech. In that instant, all he wanted was to go to her, wrap her in his arms, and bury his face in her midnight hair. Her scent was forever intoxicating to him.
“Ash?” the nanny asked, then she got an idea. “We like Ash. Why don’t you put down the pen so we can talk about him?”
Lucienne looked at the nanny, then at the unfinished runes crawling over the wall, then at the pen in her hand.
“Don’t you like Ash?” the nanny coaxed.
“Ash,” Lucienne sighed, tossing the pen onto a nearby desk.
The nanny led Lucienne to a seat before the vanity desk and started combing her mistress’ hair. “What do you think of that boy?”
Ashburn held his breath.
“Ash is very good looking,” Lucienne said.
“Yes, everyone thinks so,” the nanny said as she smoothed a lock of Lucienne’s knotted hair.
“Sometimes everyone makes me feel crazy, but he doesn’t,” Lucienne said.
“He has a way,” the nanny said.
“I miss him, terribly, Aida, but he’ll never know. He can’t read my mind. Many times I hope he can, so he’ll know how my heart aches for him.”
And Ashburn’s heart ached. It took all his strength to ground himself like an anchor in the seaport and not summon Spike. He hardened his heart by telling himself that this was the insane Lucienne talking. When she was herself again, she’d think only of the Czech prince.
But he still longed to go to her.
Ashburn tore his sight from Lucienne’s lovely face and lacy gown and shut down the memory window. If he went to her now, he’d have to watch her die. He’d be useless and helpless. He turned his attention back to Seraphen’s corpse.
Amid an ocean of data, Ashburn searched the link to Seraphen. He’d traced his former protector in his databank before, but hadn’t had much luck. Seraphen wasn’t part of the collective human consciousness since he wasn’t exactly a human. Ashburn summoned the subprogram. It hadn’t surfaced in a long while because Ashburn had suppr
essed it. Whenever it came to him, it urged him to kill Lucienne. It was disturbing to hear that murderous thought echoing in his head as if it were somehow his idea.
Although he’d pushed back the subprogram, Ashburn had also shielded it from TimeDust. The rebel force—as TimeDust called its malware—existed to stall the terrible purpose that TimeDust had set in him.
As soon as he created the virtual wall that blocked TimeDust, the subprogram surfaced like a fish breaking a net of bubbles.
“The Siren’s line—” it started.
“This isn’t about the Siren race,” Ashburn interrupted. “I summoned you for Seraphen. I must bring him back.”
“Then he’ll continue his mission and remove the Siren.”
Ashburn winced. If Seraphen returned, he’d surely hunt down Lucienne. He’d never stop until she was dead. Would Ashburn have the stomach to kill his former protector again? What if the resurrected Seraphen became too powerful for him and Lucienne to handle?
But she was already dying. He couldn’t create an antidote without Seraphen’s help or the full power from the Eye of Time.
“How do I resurrect Seraphen?” he asked the rebel.
The walls he’d built began to rattle. TimeDust was trying to breach his fortress.
The subprogram vibrated nervously, wanting to flee for self-perseverance.
“How do I resurrect Seraphen?” Ashburn asked again urgently as he enhanced his mental fortification. He could resist TimeDust for a few more seconds. He and the subprogram had a very narrow window.
“The angels’ tool wants to eradicate me,” the subprogram said.
The rebel called TimeDust the angels’ tool. Ashburn didn’t want to go there. “What should I do to I bring back Seraphen?” he demanded. “Tell me!”
“Lightning—” the subprogram said.
A punishing pain exploded in Ashburn’s head, but he sustained it. I’m no stranger to pain, he sneered at TimeDust through another channel.
